


beloved

by yellow_caballero



Series: the glass castle [2]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Asexual Character, Autism Spectrum Character, Chloe and Brooke and Jake: Beautiful Idiots, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gaslighting, Gen, Jeremy and Rich: Crabbe and Goyle, Jeremy and the terrible horrible no good very bad day, Michael and Christine: Partners in Crime, Physical Abuse, The SQUIP: lets Jeremy win at hangman, general squip ugliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-12 18:08:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13552764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellow_caballero/pseuds/yellow_caballero
Summary: Every day is the best day of Jeremy's life now. All he has to do is stay out of trouble. It would be easier if Christine wasn't stealing yearbooks, if Rich wasn't smuggling seditious literature, and if Michael fucking Mell would stay out of his way and stop plotting against him. One of these days Michael is going to get Jeremy killed. Maybe today.A day in the life under the crack of a whip.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story technically takes place within my other story 'the glass castle' but can be read completely as a stand-alone. As always, warnings for major SQUIP ugliness and explicit depictions of physical and emotional abuse.

_ C’mon, c’mon, go, go.  _

A loafer dug into Jeremy’s side, prodding gently between his ribs. Jeremy grunted and curled up tighter underneath his blanket. 

_ C’mon, c’mon, go go.  _

Jeremy mumbled something that may have resembled the words ‘five more minutes’. 

The loafer dug harder into Jeremy’s ribcage.

“Christ, I’m up, I’m up!” Jeremy pulled himself upright, scrubbing his eyes as if he could wash away the exhaustion. “I’m up.”

The SQUIP was standing over him, lowering his foot and beaming down at him. It was always incongruously cheerful in the mornings, chipper at the prospect of a new day in Jeremy’s pointless life. 

_ You seem awfully tired this morning. Would you like some adrenaline? _

Jeremy mutely shook his head as he disentangled himself from the blankets and shuffled off into the bathroom. The adrenaline this early in the morning always made him feel sick, and he always felt weirdly like he was taking drugs whenever the SQUIP tried to give him endorphins or stimulants. It was all natural, ethically sourced, organic drugs, but still. 

By the time he came back in the SQUIP was already rifling through his closet looking for his outfit for the day. Jeremy squinted at his alarm clock. Six o’ five. 

His workout routine was six o’ five to six thirty five, sweating through the push-ups as the SQUIP sat on his bed and consulted a checklist. The checklist was for effect. It had an eidetic memory and was, you know, a computer. 

“Hey, do you get wifi?”

_ Yes, but I’m not telling you the password.  _ The SQUIP tapped significantly on the checklist.  _ Now pay attention. Brooke’s self-esteem is at an all-time low since that last math test. This could be our chance.  _

The workout was, of course, specially designed to make him as ripped as physically possible in the shortest amount of time. Jeremy had checked online about it and apparently it was legitimately physically impossible for him to have become so muscular so quickly. The thought was a little worrying, or at least it would have been if Jeremy cared. 

He thought absentmindedly about the covers of Men’s Health magazines before he quickly started imagining Brooke taking all of her clothes off. Taking off her oversized yellow sweater, always hanging off one shoulder. There is another, smaller sweater underneath. There’s another sweater underneath that one. It’s a Christmas sweater.

_ And then you’ll go to bed at ten o’ clock sharp. Jeremy? Have you been paying attention? _

“Totally,” Jeremy agreed. “No, wait. I wasn’t.” He fell down out of the push-ups, brushing his sweaty hair off his eyes. “I was thinking about taking Brooke’s clothes off. Sorry.”

_ Nice to see you’re turned on by sweaters.  _ The SQUIP rolled its eyes as it tossed Jeremy a towel. Jeremy stood up, checking the clock - six thirty five - and wasted a precious minute staring at the SQUIP’s slicked back hair, its crisp and starched business suit, its surprisingly handsome cheekbone structure. It looked like Keanu Reeves, of course, but if Jeremy squinted closer he could almost swear that the thing looked just a little like him.  _ Fun tip: don’t stare at people like a creep.  _

A ten minute shower helped wake him up so he was clocking in at six forty five standing in front of his closet, blinking blearily at his rows of identical clothing. 

_ You’ve been tired a lot lately.  _ The SQUIP squinted at one of his new shirts, trying to find a stain.  _ There’s no physiological reason.  _

“Just stressed, I guess.” Jeremy stood in front of his closet, blinking blearily at the shirts. He half-heartedly reached a hand out and tried to flip through them. “Can you…?”

The SQUIP sighed, but it had never really been up for debate. It indulgently pulled out a blue Vineyard Vines shirt, a pressed pair of khaki shorts, and some boat shoes. It was the running theme of his entire wardrobe. So much Vineyard Vines. 

Jeremy dressed in front of the mirror, carefully checking every inch of his body. Water was still glistening along the curves of his biceps, of his abs, his gawky height turned lean. A rigorous quantum nanotechnology derived supercomputer skin care formula had helped clear up his zits. It had designed a perfect diet, a perfect workout routine. Every inch of himself in the mirror had become a work in progress. 

_ Admiring yourself in the mirror again?  _ The SQUIP snorted as it stood in front of the mirror, scanning him head to toe.  _ Shirt’s rumpled.  _

It was always so much better than he was at finding these things. Jeremy hastily fixed it, then fixed his socks for good measure. Sometimes he didn’t know what the point was. Weren’t they just going to get rumpled again soon anyway?

_ This lifestyle requires perseverance.  _ The SQUIP stood in front of him, frowning slightly as it assessed and fixed and tugged and cleaned. Jeremy was doing his best not to stare too much but it was hard not to reciprocate the complete and total attention. It was soothing and flattering, that one computer could care so much about him. Or about his life, which should be the same thing.  _ There.  _ It stepped back, smiling at him and making him smile hesitantly back.  _ I do such good work. You look incredible.  _

“Really?” Jeremy looked at himself in the mirror again. He didn’t look so special. He didn’t even look like himself. “It’s hard to believe that it’s all really me.”

_ Of course it’s not you. It’s better. It’s you plus me.  _ He moved behind Jeremy, letting him view himself completely unimpeded in the mirror, and he crossed his hands over each shoulder so he was almost hugging him as he ducked his head close to Jeremy’s ear.  _ You’re incredible. I’ve always thought so, that you had that potential. Look at you. Soon your mind will be as perfect as your body.  _

Instead of a warm breath there was the faintest zing of static electricity on the shell of his ear. Its thumbs were rubbing soft circles on his shoulders, but even as it put so much weight on his shoulder that Jeremy was bending forward a little he couldn’t help but cautiously reciprocate the fond smile. 

“Sometimes I worry that I can’t,” Jeremy confessed. “I can do everything you ask, and look like this and everything, but some part of me just isn’t changing.”

The SQUIP chuckled.  _ You’re very stubborn, Jeremy. Trust me on that one.  _ It winked.  _ But there’s no such thing as a horse that can’t be broken, right?  _

“Right,” Jeremy said resolutely. He glanced at the clock. “Shit!”

His father was, miraculously, sitting at the dining room table, chewing on cold frozen waffles from the box. Jeremy rolled his eyes as he strode down the stairs, and moved to go make himself his protein shake. Jeremy wondered if he noticed that the kitchen was spotless, possessed about three times as many cooking implements as it used to, was fully stocked, and had neatly labeled glass tupperware of meals set out in the fridge for him to eat every day while Jeremy was at school. He probably had only noticed the fact that healthy food was strangely in his fridge now, like some kind of roving vegetarian phenomenon. 

“Jeremy!” His father made the herculean effort of looking up from his tablet. Cat videos again. “What are you doing down here so early?”

“I’m always here at seven, Dad.” On the dot. The cat clock read seven on the dot, just as it always read seven on the dot the minute Jeremy climbed down the stairs for breakfast. “What are you doing up so early?”

He shrugged, scratching at his wiry beard. “Couldn’t sleep. Don’t worry, I’ll make up for it by sleeping the afternoon away!” He laughed as if it were a joke, and not that Jeremy was going to come home that evening to find a father very thoroughly asleep. 

_ Pity he doesn’t care about you enough to say hello as you come home from school.  _ The SQUIP examined its fingernails, leaning up against the doorframe. Jeremy turned on the blender as loud as he possibly could to silence his dad, but nothing could silence the SQUIP.  _  Really, does anybody care about you enough to do that? _

“You do.” Jeremy glanced at the SQUIP out of the corner of his eye as he poured his thick brown drink into his glass. It looked disgusting, and tasted worse. “Right?”

_ Well, I don’t have much of a choice, do I?  _ The SQUIP laughed and clapped Jeremy on the shoulder, making Jeremy laugh a little too.  _ Enough chit chat. Only lazy ass losers miss the bus, and I know you wouldn’t do that to me. Remember: the first empty aisle you find starting near the back of the bus, but not too back. No sweating.  _

When Jeremy climbed on the bus he knew that he ruled it, that juniors riding the bus weren’t super weak if they were him, that he had nothing to fear but fear itself, and that nobody wanted to welcome him home from school. 

  
  
  


Jeremy waited until the last possible second to paste a smile on his face when he met up with his new friends, who were waiting outside the library chewing bubblegum and flexing. Rich quirked an eyebrow, but the others smiled and waved back at him as he jogged up. 

Chloe’s jewelry was fine and silver today, with a necklace of five draping chains and a light cardigan pulled over a figure hugging black t-shirt and skinny jeans with Uggs. She was posed against the wall, angling herself to provide the best view to the ogling boys around the corner, and Brooke was bundled up in her fluffy yellow sweater that made Jeremy blush. She was sucking on a lollipop, pretending not to stare at Jeremy but glancing at him out of the corner of her eye every five seconds anyway. Jake was in his football jersey and frantically copying homework from Rich, who was dressed the same as he ever was, who looked as dead inside as he ever did. 

It didn’t stop him from hollering friendly obscenities as he high fived a similarly grinning Jeremy. He gave Jake a friendly elbow in the side and he smiled shyly at Chloe, who rolled her eyes but blushed anyway, and at Brooke, who almost swallowed her lollipop. 

The SQUIP wasn’t saying anything about having to stand next to Brooke, so Jeremy took whatever opening he could get and lingered slightly behind Rich, who subtly angled himself so he was between Jeremy and the others. 

“You gotta copy my homework too, Heere?” Rich drawled obnoxiously, jerking his thumb at a frantic Jake. “It’s gonna cost extra for you.”

Jeremy batted his eyes. “But I don’t have any money. Isn’t there something...else I can pay with?”

Brooke choked on her own spit. Chloe swallowed her gum. Jake was pretending not to pay attention, but Jeremy caught the dark flush of his cheeks anyway. Jeremy patted himself on the back. Nothing straighter than making gay jokes.

“Speaking of which,” Chloe said loudly, turning to Jake, “where’s the girlfriend, anyway?”

“Uh, theater practice?” Jake nibbled on the end of his pen as Rich silently hovered his finger over where the equation was worked out. “I think she sleeps in that room.”

“I swear, it’s like everyone in this school loves her and she barely even tries,” Chloe whined. She stamped her foot. “When I have to kiss so many babies or whatever?”

“You make it look so effortless,” Brooke jumped in, “like, your makeup today? Subtle, but flawless.”

They grinned at each other. Rich rolled his eyes. Jeremy was trying to imagine taking her clothes off again, only this time she was spending the whole time talking about how great Chloe was. What a sycophant. 

Seven fifty. Jeremy shook his sleeve out over his watch and looked up at the sky, watching the birds bob gently in the breeze, catching the roar of the planes marching their trail ever onwards. He would like to be a bird. Or catch a train, one way ticket to nowhere, no stops. 

Jeremy watched the birds, dreaming of the sky as teenage voices shackled him for ten more precious minutes before the bell rang and the others reluctantly began gathering their things. Jeremy let them all leave before him, taking his time checking his backpack pockets, as Rich lingered behind the others, shifting from foot to foot. 

The atrium they had been standing in had more or less emptied out, leftover vagabonds scurrying here or there, and the two paranoid boys triple checked around them to make sure nobody could hear their conversation, heads ducked in close together, feeling like two prisoners separated by a brick wall, talking only through mouseholes.

“Are you still stuck on that project with him?” Rich asked, voice low. His normally vapid and slack jawed expression had settled into something a little harder, a little more intense. “Tell me you managed to get out of it.”

Jeremy shook his head. “I’m still stuck. He’s coming to my place Thursday to work on the project.”

Rich scrubbed his face with his hands, cursing. Jeremy, as always, found himself thinking about that half hour he spent in Rich’s room, playing a video game and crying. Sometimes he found himself missing that person. He had become brave and resolute in that memory, voice shaken with raw emotion, calloused hands gripping Jeremy’s shoulders as Rich met his eyes in a wild, intense stare. Now he was locked up back in that cage and whatever was left was a pale shadow, no longer allowed to cry. 

Still, it was Rich. He bit his lip, scrubbing his hands through his hair. “I’ll figure something out. I’ll keep him away from you.”

Jeremy found himself pathetically grateful, but feeling like a coward. “I’m just having a good day,” he found himself pleading. “I can’t worry about him right now. If he would just get the message and leave us alone then we wouldn’t even have to do this.”

Rich gave him a wry look, stepping away. “If I know one thing about Michael Mell,” he said, “it’s that he doesn’t leave well enough alone.” He gave him a two finger salute and turned to leave, carefully angling his backpack so it was only on by one strap. “We’ll take care of this one. You focus on keeping away from him as much as possible.”

What had happened to the Rich who told him to escape, to contact him, that he’d never truly get over him? Jeremy gave him a sloppy salute as Rich smiled, small and sure, and turned to stride confidently down the hall. Jeremy wondered if it was possible to grieve for someone you never even knew. 

If he ever met the real Rich again, what would be the one question he would ask him?

A plastic recycling bin clattered behind them, and Jeremy whipped around only to see nobody down the hall. The plastic ringing sound echoed down the empty hall, and Jeremy caught only the barest glimpse of short black hair before it turned away from sight around the corner and was gone. 

The SQUIP materialized in front of him, arms crossed and scowling. Jeremy found himself flinching away.  _ Someone’s there.  _

Of course someone’s there, it’s a high school. It was probably just some freshman late for class. Jeremy looked up and down the empty hallway, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise. What’s the big deal? He had to get to class. 

_ The ‘big deal’ is that whoever was there isn’t coming out.  _ It waited as Jeremy stared blankly at it. It crossed its arms and sighed.  _ They’re hiding. Find them, now.  _

Jeremy knew better than not to. He lightened his footsteps until he wasn’t scuffing the cement, hugging the walls as he found a half-opened supply closet door. 

The SQUIP wrinkled its nose, disgusted.  _ Talk about tacky.  _

It made a hand signal and Jeremy immediately stepped into sight of whoever was inside, grabbed the door, and threw it open. Inside the tacky supply closet with what looked like a lot of wiring and some recycling trash cans, he found - 

“Christine?”

Christine beamed at him, wiggling her fingers. “Jeremy, hi! I’m sorry, did I startle you?”

Jeremy blinked at her, then at a stony faced SQUIP, then back at her. “Uh. Yes?”

Before Jeremy could kick himself for the dorky answer Christine was already giggling and smoothing her rumpled hair back down. It was breathtakingly adorable. “Aw, I’m so sorry! You know, I was sleeping in the theater room, don’t tell anyone I do that - so I was sleeping in the theater room and I found some trash, so I tried to recycle it, but I got tired again so I kind of conked out?” She grinned sheepishly. “I think the bell woke me up. But then I got confused and tried to throw away the glass bottle in the plastics container and that was this whole other mess. Shouldn’t you be in class?”

The deluge of information was overwhelming. Jeremy blinked through it. “Uh. Yes?”

“Cool!” She grabbed his hand and towed him out of the room, kicking the door closed with one foot behind her. “So although preparing for the zombie play is taking all of my time, I just have these great ideas for Lady Macbeth in next semester’s play.”

She rattled on until she had safely deposited him in front of his first period, beaming and waving all the while as she skipped down to her own classroom. Jeremy was left to slide into his English desk, still dumbfounded as Jenna wrote everything down studiously in her notebook and Jake fell asleep. 

_ You need to go to the bathroom.  _

Jeremy had just literally walked in late. Wouldn’t they care if he just left?

He had the distinct impression the SQUIP was gritting its teeth.  _ Now.  _

The teacher was a woman, so Jeremy got away with it. 

He walked slowly down the halls, hands in his pockets, waiting for the SQUIP to say something. It didn’t. He checked his reflection in the glass window - the Vineyard Vines, the white boy combover thing, the boat shoes. He fixed his hair. He was a little scared. 

The bathroom was empty. It wasn’t the same one Rich had cornered him in all those months ago, just a normal panel of grimy windows and a row of urinals and stalls with slightly grouty toilets and strangely tame graffiti on the stall doors. Jeremy ducked inside one of the stalls.

Trying hard not to think about how dirty the floor probably was, Jeremy slid down against the wall onto his ass. He took a bite out of his pastel shirt, cotton fibers fuzzy on his tongue. 

Then he was electrocuted. It wasn’t for very long. Jeremy screamed, muffled by the shirt.

By the time the pain receded his head was between his knees, his shirt fallen out of his mouth and leaving him gasping. He could just barely see the shined shoes of the SQUIP standing in front of him. 

One of its heels was bouncing, so Jeremy silently got up to unlock the stall door so he could lean against one of the sinks and gasp. His hands were shaking and it took several tries to paw the cold water on and stick his hands in under it, letting the lukewarm water turn cold as it slid over the unbroken skin. It didn’t help. In the mirror he saw the SQUIP pace, hands behind its back.

_ She definitely heard something.  _

Jeremy had honestly thought that she had just fallen asleep in the closet. It happened sometimes, right? Especially to Christine, she could be such a ditz sometimes. She had been pretty convincing. 

_ Jeremy.  _ The SQUIP pinched the bridge of its nose.  _ You thought Rich was convincing. You think I’m convincing. She’s an actress, moron, of course she was convincing.  _

“I don’t see the big deal,” Jeremy complained weakly, neck still prickling. His eyelids felt fuzzy, like they were crusted over with sleep. He felt dizzy and nauseous. He gave up and turned off the water, forgoing dignity in favor of sliding to the floor and hugging his knees as watching the SQUIP pace. “We didn’t say anything incriminating. We were just talking about avoiding Michael.” Something occurred to him, like a cold hand clasping his heart and squeezing. “Rich isn’t in trouble, is he?”

The SQUIP halted, the heel of one polished loafer clicking against the floor. Its hands were behind its back, and when it turned to look at him its eyes were glinting.  _ What if he is? _

His heart flopped weakly in his chest. Jeremy hung his head. “It’s my fault,” he muttered. “He’s trying to help all of us. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

_ That’s for the other SQUIP to decide, not me. Trust me, she will be hearing about this.  _ Jeremy slunk lower in his seat.  _ Think about the big picture, Jeremy: what she heard wasn’t incriminating at all. But she felt the need to hide from you to hear it. She lied about it. Why would she be so scared of two retarded little boys fumbling their way through high school? _

“Maybe she’s…” Jeremy trailed off, desperate to defend Christine, unable to find a way. “Maybe she knew that we wanted to keep it a secret. I’m still pretending I barely even know him, right? It’s not that cool to run around trying to avoid losers.”

_ I have my suspicions _ , it said vaguely. It gave Jeremy a patronizing smile and squatted down next to him. Jeremy fought the urge to shrink back.  _ Let the grown-ups handle that one for right now. Let’s talk about you. _

“Me?” Jeremy’s voice cracked. “What about me?”

_ We’ve been encouraging your little friendship with Rich.  _ Jeremy froze. If he wasn’t allowed to genuinely talk with Rich anymore…!  _ I thought that it would be good for you, get a good role model for the future. He’s a good influence. And he’s a good friend, isn’t he? _

“Not at all,” Jeremy swiftly said, “not as good of a friend as you. No way.”

The SQUIP laughed, ruffling Jeremy’s hair.  _ Unnecessary, but points for trying. I was just wondering how good of a friend you were.  _ It leaned in, reaching forward to speak in his ear again.  _ She’s pretty strict, you know. She’s not nice like I am. He’ll get into serious trouble if I told her what happened.  _

The ‘if’ rescued Jeremy. He leaned forward eagerly, causing the SQUIP to draw backwards too with an amused look on its face. When it was farther away it felt like he could breathe again. “What do you want me to do?”

_ Wow, so eager. You’re like a puppy.  _ The SQUIP slowly stood up. Jeremy made a move to follow him until the SQUIP put a palm on the crown of his head, pushing him back down until Jeremy had remained seated.  _ About as smart as one, too. Try and listen up, we’ll see if you can do a trick.  _

Jeremy listened, and although he didn’t like it, he agreed. 

  
  
  


“I understand that this is your favorite spot behind the school?” 

Jeremy grinned and rubbed the back of his neck as Brooke giggled. She adjusted her sweater in a way that made it actually fit worse, and she averted eye contact and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. It was really amazing, how Brooke probably fantasized about fucking him. 

Sorry, girls usually said ‘make love’. Unless you’re Chloe, then you say fuck. 

He had to give it to her, it was actually a pretty good spot. It was grassy with a sprawling oak tree, and was on a gently sloping hill that lead from the basketball courts to the football field. It was a good spot for cloud watching, and Jeremy tried to imagine it. Just lying down, watching the sky go by and thinking about nothing much at all. 

They had kissed once or twice. It wasn’t anything official. She was falling hard for him and he didn’t want to commit, but he was thinking of it, so he still had to be persuaded a little. She was wearing him down, or so the narrative went. 

Jeremy sat down under the tree next to her, staring into her eyes or something. They were blue. The sky behind her was a rich, technicolor blue, windswept clouds crawling along it to make a spring’s sight in winter. 

She bit her lip and smiled at him as they sat under a tree and looked at each other, and Jeremy watched her mentally run down through the million signals she was sending. Hair thing, check. Averted eyes, check. Sensual lollipop, check. Why isn’t he going for it?

It was called emotional foreplay, Brooke. It sets the boyfriends apart from the future husbands. Jeremy held his nose and dived in. 

“You’ve been so beautiful lately,” he said quietly, reaching out a hand to brush her hair out of her face. She blushed deep red. “Have you been thinking about me?”

“Only all the time.” She grinned at him, tugging at the ends of her sweater, wrapping it around her finger. “Come on, let’s make it official. I want to totally rub it in Jenna’s face.”

“I don’t know,” Jeremy said, eyes sparkling in laughter as he leaned in, “want to convince me?”

But then Brooke looked away. 

Fuck! Jeremy leaned back, sitting up straight as Brooke stared out onto the field. She wrapped her hands around her knees, staring over the campus. Three boys were playing pickup games on the basketball courts, shooting hoops, winning nothing but net. It was almost voyeuristic. Beyond the fence lay strip malls, hobby stores, a restaurant, and a laundromat. 

God, what was he doing wrong. He was so screwed if this didn’t work. Jeremy checked his breath and his hair, well aware he probably looked like a nervous and vain teenage boy. A nervous and vain heterosexual teenage boy. 

It had ‘encouraged’ him to try this one on his own - no slacking while I do all the work, Jeremy! He had to prove that he could do this. 

But Brooke just rested her chin on her knees. “It really is my favorite spot, you know.”

“Favorite spot for kissing or for reading Shakespeare?” Jeremy leaned forward a little so he was matching her posture, looking out over the field. He wondered what she saw. “Because I know you don’t like Shakespeare.”

She giggled, hitting him lightly on the arm. “Always the charmer. You probably had a girlfriend back at your old school.”

Brooke was likely one of the first women he had ever held a conversation with longer than five minutes. “None of them were good enough for me.”

“Oh, stop.” She ghosted her fingers over the grass, running them between her forefinger and thumb. “It’s nicer in the spring. The flowers have this sweet smell, and the ground’s warm and soft instead of this cold mess. You feel a little fuzzy in the head, and if you close your eyes for long enough you feel like a cloud too.”

Jeremy was silent. 

She closed her eyes, imagining herself there, instead of here. “It’s really dumb, but sometimes all the people get really overwhelming, so I eat lunch out here. I used to do that a lot in elementary school. Middle school, too, until I became friends with Chloe. Then it was all friends, all the time.” She opened her eyes, catapulted back into the present, and smiled bitterly down at the ground. “I should ask her to eat out here with me sometimes.”

“She’d like that,” Jeremy said gently. He put a hand on her arm. “Hell, we can all do it. You, me, Jake, Rich, Chloe, Christine. Mi -” He paused a beat, then smiled. “Maybe just you and me first.”

She laughed. “You only have one thing on your mind today, don’t you!”

Jeremy exhaled an exaggerated groan. “You’re killing me, Lohst!”

“Your heart will soldier on.” She stuck out her tongue. “This is what you get for refusing to date me yet. You get to hear my emotional ramblings.”

“I love your emotional ramblings,” Jeremy said, as serious as he could fake it. “Seriously, I could sit out here all day and just talk with you!” Yes, yes he could. “You’ve always been so interesting to talk to, and so funny. You just have the best smile.” Jeremy wondered if he sounded like he was falling for her too. He laughed self-consciously, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Now who’s doing the emotional rambling, huh?”

Brooke was bright red again, but if Jeremy had ever seen happiness on anyone’s face it was that. He wondered if this would be a cherished memory for her one day. Skipping class in high school, sitting behind the school and talking about life, kissing under the winter sun. It would probably be really special for her. 

She wasn’t all bad. Jeremy was glad that he could give her that, at least. 

When she shifted Jeremy thought that she was finally going to go for it, but she just ended up plucking two blades of grass from the frozen ground. They were still alive, miraculously, green and supple. She held out one to Jeremy, smiling shyly. “Ever learn how to whistle with a blade of grass?”

What?

He stared at her, then at the grass. “This is really not how I was expecting this to go,” he said honestly. “But yeah, sure. Sure.”

He was pretty bad at it, all told. But she was great - poking the slit through the grass, blowing until you could hear the high, reedy sound that echoed against the field, over the basketball players, over the football field, far beyond into the wild blue yonder where the strip malls roamed. She laughed at his pathetic attempts, making him blush too, and she showed off by whistling the Jaws theme. 

Whistling songs on blades of grass on a hillside - this was totally Link and Zelda! “Can you do Epona’s Song?” He asked eagerly, forgetting himself. “I can hum it for you if you want.”

Brooke’s whistle slowly lowered, and she blinked at him with large doe eyes. “Like from Zelda?”

Jeremy stayed silent. Fuck. 

“You play Zelda?”

Jeremy looked away, cheeks burning. 

Brooke burst into laughter, clutching her sides and wheezing, almost bent double the more her laughter was swallowed by the fields. Jeremy’s cheeks were deep red and his blade of grass was growing limp in a sweaty hand. 

“You’re so embarrassed!” She cackled again. “Oh man, look at you! Jeremy Heere’s too good for Zelda!”

“What!” Jeremey squeaked. “I am not too good for Zelda! I’m - I just have better things to do! Like...work out!”

Brooke snickered. “Yeah, work out by working that Wii remote action. Do you make those little ‘hyaa!’ sounds when you do it?”

“I am way too busy making straight As to even think about it -”

“Did you need the Triforce of Wisdom to make those straight As?” She gestured to her hand. “Did you draw it on with marker?”

“I have parties -”

“Do you go to the Indigo-go’s gigs?”

“Are you seriously making fun of me about this?”

“Why not? You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.” She winked at him, and Jeremy flushed deeper. “You should relax a little. You don’t have anything to prove.”

“Not to you, maybe,” Jeremy said woodenly. 

Maybe it was a little too wooden. Maybe it was that single, damnable crack. He had really messed up this one. Somehow it couldn’t feel like too bad of a fuck up if it made Brooke smile at him like that, watch her laugh or whistle songs, but that didn’t change what was going to happen to him later. Him and Rich. 

Whatever it was, something in his expression made her soften. “One Epona’s Song coming right up. Listen carefully, okay? I’ll have to go back to not knowing what Zelda is soon too.”

Jeremy sat with her, lying back propped up on his elbows watching a handful of clouds turn and drift in the wind as the sweet sound of a song he and Michael used to get up and dance to echoed as far as it dared across the school and their lives. 

When it was done she leaned over and kissed him, long and deep, and he closed his eyes and let it happen. When they parted, with a short exhale where their eyes opened and they stared lovingly at each other, he found himself pitying her instead of hating her. 

Their heads were bent together so close their foreheads touched, and in a strange urge that he didn’t understand he growled and tackled her by the waist, sending them tumbling across the grass. Brooke screamed a little with delight, so different from his scream only two hours ago, and the hard dirt dug into his elbows as he laughed and tried to shove her onto her face. She kicked out at him, big boots colliding with his thighs as she sweared eternal revenge and Jeremy laughed and laughed. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

 

But it had told Rich’s SQUIP anyway. 

Jake had wanted to send Rich to the nurse’s office when they filed into Spanish for third period, but Jeremy had bullshitted and said that he just needed to hydrate more. Considering the fact that Rich was still shivering he didn’t understand why Jake bought it, but the others practically made a job out of buying the bullcrap they kept feeding them. 

Still, he had looked sick enough that the teacher gave them a pass and let Jeremy take him to the nurse’s office anyway. Of course, they then proceeded to take the pass and go nowhere near the nurse’s office to hold a war conference until they felt like going back. Jeremy had the feeling that he wasn’t getting a lot of education that day. 

Rich heaved one last time, spitting up the last vestiges of vomit into the bowl as Jeremy flushed. Rich rested his forehead against the porcelain, breathing deeply, eyes shut. 

Jeremy was curled up miserably next to him, sitting on the bathroom floor for the third time that day. “Rich, I’m so -”

A hand smacked him in the face. Rich had randomly thrown out his hand and shoved it at whatever part of Jeremy he could get to. “Save it, tall-ass. This is on me just as much as it’s on you.”

“But you were trying to help me!”

“Yeah, which saves my own skin from that nutso Mell.” He exhaled shakily, sitting back until he was propping himself up on his hands in a grotesque parody of Brooke’s pose only an hour earlier. He stared at the ceiling, gelled hair in matted clumps, exhaling in thick huffs of air. “Besides, you made it with that bimbo to try and help me out. We’re more than even.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Jeremy said. “You’ve been...you’ve been great.”

“First time I’ve heard that.” Rich smiled shakily at him - one of his rare actual smiles, not the grinning Cheshire Cat he usually was.  “Besides, I’m fine!  I’ve had way worse.”

Then he bent forward to throw up again.

By the time they had started wandering around the school again Rich had cleaned himself up and was sniffing his tank top dubiously for a vomit smell. The hallways were empty, their sneakers scuffing against the cement, and Rich had bags under his eyes. Jeremy almost wished he did too, any sign of how this was killing him. 

He was glancing at Jeremy out of the corner of his eye as passing freshmen squeaked and tripped over themselves trying to get away from them. Actually, there were quite a few freshmen. Jeremy realized that they had wandered into one of the freshman hallways, where the billboards were still relatively cheerful and nobody had scrawled obscenities onto the walls. Jeremy wondered what they were doing there, then realized that he didn’t want to know. But he knew anyway, and had known it before Rich had called a friendly greeting to a small crowd of three jock looking kids carrying a basketball, coming in from gym class. 

Or maybe it wasn’t so friendly after all. The boys had the faintest hint of swagger to their gait, chins jutted up imperiously, still carrying the attitude of big man on campus. They probably had been big name eighth graders, ruling their little middle school. 

_ But they aren’t in middle school anymore, are they?  _ The SQUIP leaned against the lockers, hands in pockets, smiling rakishly.  _ Uppity little snots.  _

Jeremy, unfortunately, held no ill will towards fourteen year olds. He was not offended by them, had never resented them for their basketballs or self-confidence. He just wanted to leave, maybe work with Rich on their homework, but they had already frozen where they stood like deer blinking into the headlights of a mack truck. 

“Is that Victor and his little buddies?” Rich called, delighted, his hands were in his pockets and his manic grin was back, rocking a little on the balls of his feet. He seemed almost relieved to be that person again, his brief moments of vulnerability with Jeremy prickling like thorns and exhausting him. If he only had a little bit more practice, maybe it wouldn’t be so tiring. “You remember me, right? Rich Goranksi? I was there when you were ganging up on that kid for his lunch money.”

He turned to Jeremy and added, sotto voice, “It was for his weed, but whatever.” He grinned at one of the boys, moving forward to clap him on the shoulder. The smaller boy buckled under the weight, but smiled uncertainly, fooled by the friendly gesture. “How have you been holding up? Adjusting to high school okay?”

The boy, who had long brown hair and a mole on his chin, looked frantically around for an escape even as he smiled back at Rich. The SQUIP made a small hand gesture and Jeremy moved to cover the only possible escape route. The boy’s face fell. “H - hi, Rich.” He swallowed, and watched as his other friends backed slowly away. “No hard feelings about last time, right?”

Rich rearranged his features into exaggerated relief. “Right! No hard feelings about me kicking your ass. Man, for a second there I was so worried.” 

Without another word he pushed the boy against a locker. Jeremy hissed, stepping backwards as the other boys turned to flee for their lives, leaving their comrade to bleed out on the battlefield. 

The SQUIP imitated little talking motions with his hands. Jeremy stared at him, helpless. He wanted to ask the SQUIP to make Rich stop, make it listen to him, make anybody listen to him. Jeremy didn’t want to do it another favor. There had been too many already. 

It sighed.  _ Your persona, Jeremy? You’re not a bully, but you let Rich get away with it. Just channel your inner Jake.  _

Jeremy sighed, sticking his hand in his pocket and scratching at his nose. He drew himself up, straightening his shirt. “Freshmen, really?” He asked, unimpressed. The SQUIP nodded and gave him his next line. “I thought we were going to smoke behind the school, not waste our time pushing around some little kids.”

The kid cringed. Rich was laughing, telling the kid something or another in a low voice. It may have been a demand for the weed in his locker. It may have been him threatening the kid to watch his back, because the big bad Rich Goranski was coming for him. It may have been him warning the kid not to pick on anyone smaller and weaker than he was. It didn’t matter. 

This time Jeremy didn’t wait for the line. The corners of his eyes were grimy with sleep, and his movements felt slow and languid. He had been feeling a little dull for a while now. One day he would be too slow to move. “Please, let’s just go back to class. I’m too tired for this.”

Rich froze, one heavy hand still on the kid’s shoulder. Jeremy could barely see his expression, just a faint tightening at the corners of his eyes. “That was quick.”

Jeremy cringed. The SQUIP straightened, frowning. 

Before he could think Rich resoundly banged the kid’s head against the locker, making him scream. Jeremy’s heart jumped five beats, and the SQUIP gave a low whistle. Before a teacher could come investigate the noise Rich shoved the kid away, and let him run off again back out the doors where he came from. 

Rich turned back to him, spreading out his hands and grinning at Jeremy. He hadn’t let up on the manic energy, bouncing on the toes of his feet. “I said the same thing too, you know.”

Jeremy watched him warily, frightened of his friend, hating himself for it. “Yeah?”

“Sure. Don’t get me wrong, she’s great. She helps me not be such a raging moron all the time.” He pressed a hand to his heart, a sick parody of affection. “It was just a little exhausting at first, right? I hadn’t adjusted yet. You get that. Don’t you get that?”

_ Oh, my.  _ The SQUIP said, delighted.  _ Quick, call him a raging moron. _

Jeremy rolled his eyes, saying instead, “They’re gone, man. You can let up.”

“Not yet!” Rich strode forward, and the same hand that banged the kid’s against the locker hovered over Jeremy’s own shirt, as if to grab and shake. “But after a few months I got tired. Just like you, right? I hated that. I hated that more than anything. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t read.” He shook his head, chasing off a memory, and Jeremy marvelled at the strange mental image of Rich actually holding a book. “Then she started giving me some more adrenaline, you know. And some dopamine, and some serotonin. Then a lot of endorphins. I’m talking endorphins up the wazoo, here. I stopped feeling tired. I started feeling better!”

He kicked out at the wall, cracking his foot against the cinderblock, and Jeremy winced as the SQUIP moved forward to stand with him, hand on his chin.  _ That’s not good.  _

Rich was kicking the wall again, teeth gnashing. He didn’t even seem to feel the pain. Keeping his voice low, Jeremy asked, “What’s not good?”

It shook his head, shrugging.  _ There’s a reason I’m not just adjusting your body chemicals all day every day, here. Trust me, it’d be easier. It’s just not good for the host body. Endorphins are morphine, you know. That’s the kind of painkiller they put you on for surgery - and only surgery.  _

Jeremy frowned, fighting the urge to cover his ears to block out the sound of Rich’s heaving breaths. “Is that why he’s not allowed to drink?”

The SQUIP looked sketchy, not that it ever really stopped.  _ Among other reasons.  _ He clapped a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder, making him buckle.  _ Don’t worry, I’d never let him hurt you. You haven’t gotten your tetanus shot! _

But Rich had calmed down, as suddenly as he became angry, and all of the anger and energy bled out of his body until it was languid and soft again, a teenage boy in a tank top smelling faintly of vomit for those who knew where to look. 

It wasn’t the first time he had done it. It wasn’t even the second or the third time, when Rich purposefully sought out kids he didn’t have to bully or pick fights he didn’t have to win just to fight them. It had driven Jeremy crazy at first, not understanding why someone would be cruel if they didn’t have to be. He hadn’t understood how somebody could be cruel just because they wanted to.

That was at first. After some time and a lot of Michael Mell, Jeremy was beginning to understand. 

His shoulders were hunched over, and Jeremy quietly guided Rich to lean against his shoulder as the hallway stood empty. Jeremy didn’t try and hug him or touch him, but just let him lean against him. 

“I shouldn’t really be saying this,” Rich said quietly, “but I don’t like that I enjoy that.”

“I shouldn’t really be saying this either,” Jeremy said, “but I’m glad you don’t.”

The odd pose only went so far as to make Jeremy wish that it had gone on for longer when Rich straightened and stepped away. The SQUIP looked Jeremy up and down, raising its eyebrows, and Jeremy immediately began fixing his rumpled outfit. It had been through a lot today. He probably looked like a wreck. 

“We still have some loose ends to clear up,” Rich said gruffly. He hesitated, then quirked Jeremy’s belt back in place. Jeremy smiled at him as Rich turned red and ran his hands through his hair. “This morning, when we were being morons.”

“So stupid.”

“Retarded.” They nodded professionally at each other before Rich sobered. “Christine definitely heard something. We have to handle that before she can dig any deeper about us.”

Christine looking up at him, smiling and blowing raspberries. Christine making froggy faces to make Chloe laugh. Christine directing the new zombie play that the SQUIP was weirdly interested in with the passion and enthusiasm of a maestro. “We aren’t going to...do anything to her, are we?” Jeremy faltered, feeling unexpectedly like a supervillain. “I mean, it’s Christine. How much trouble can she honestly be?”

“You weren’t there for the sophomore year PSAT,” Rich said darkly. He sighed, pulling on his hair a little at the roots as if he wanted to rip it out. He gestured Jeremy on and they began making their way to the drama room, dodging teachers and hall monitors as they passed. “Besides, I don’t think it’s just Christine.”

Jeremy faltered. “What?”

It was a pointless question. Who else would make Jeremy’s life so difficult?

The SQUIP pinched the bridge of its nose as it walked next to them.  _ Crap, she’s right. We saw someone disappearing around the corner, didn’t we? The girl was hiding in the supply closet.  _

“Oh.” Jeremy and Rich played casual in front of a locker as a teacher walked by. When Jeremy grinned at her she practically swooned. Creep. “Then maybe Christine was hiding in the closet so we wouldn’t see her with the other person.”

The SQUIP shot him a disgusted look as Rich rolled his eyes. Jeremy felt his cheeks warm.  _ How have you lived this long?  _

The theater room was buzzing with the light rise and fall of conversation. Jeremy realized belatedly that they were doing dress rehearsal at the auditorium today, and that if Christine really was in there, she would have been relatively alone. She frequently skipped rehearsals to design the play and work on stage directions back in the room. As Assistant Stage Manager, she was quickly developing a twitch (“of fun!”) in her eye. 

Rich reached a hand and grabbed the door handle, and before Jeremy could think better of it he grabbed Rich’s wrist. His heart was thumping in his chest, and he gritted his teeth against Rich’s confused look and the SQUIP’s growing impatience. 

“So what if Christine’s messing with us?” he hissed. His fingers clenched around Rich’s wrist. “What are we going to do to her?”

God, he felt like the mafia. Rich opened his mouth and closed it, jaw working, but the SQUIP just crossed his arms.  _ Relax. We’ll have Rich do it. _

“That’s not good enough,” Jeremy hissed. Rich blinked, only privy to one half of the conversation. “Aren’t I supposed to date her? We can’t exactly do that if we’re cornering her behind the school with baseball bats!”

Rich cringed, hand lifting off the doorknob. Jeremy felt sick just thinking of it. You weren’t supposed to beat up on girls. Even Rich had never done that. He wouldn’t do it to anyone, but especially little Christine, who could sing the Tigger song until her breath gave out but who had never seen adversity like they had. 

The thought of Christine SQUIP’d made him sick. The thought of her wearing make up. Dressing in the right clothing and saying the right things. Never making her little mouth sounds again, or happy crying, or accidentally ranting about gun control for two hours. The thought of her being just like everyone else, just like them, crouching in bathroom stalls with their shirts between their teeth. 

_ I thought you liked having me around.  _

“I do!” Jeremy burst out, making Rich step back a little and blink, accidentally pulling the door open just a crack. “I love having you around, I do, but I think you should - Christine -”

_ You think I should.  _ Jeremy cringed.  _ Well, Mr. SQUIP, right away, sir.  _ The SQUIP saluted sarcastically.  _ I’ll get right on that, because you’re smarter than I am and I do whatever you say.  _ It snorted.  _ Right. You think I should. You want to know what I think you should do, Jeremy? _

Jeremy slowly backed away from the door, forcing himself not to look to Rich for help, knowing he couldn’t give it. Rich crossed his arms and turned away, eyes a little unfocused as he listened to his own SQUIP. 

_ Aren’t you interested in my advice anymore? After everything I’ve done for you? _

_ I am,  _ Jeremy thought,  _ really, I just thought that we were doing all of this for Christine. That we wouldn’t do anything to her.  _ He bit his lip.  _ Aren’t we trying to...you know...get her to fall in love with me or whatever? _

Sometimes Jeremy could have sworn that the SQUIP changed height as it wanted to, always so it was just tall enough, tall enough to loom over him however it wanted. As the SQUIP looked down on him, crowding him against the wall, Jeremy could only think about its features, its cheekbones and nose. It really did look just a little bit like him. 

_ Oh, Jeremy. Who could ever love you? _

Wow, what an unexpected answer. Jeremy ducked his head anyway, pretending that the shot had hit home. He must not have done it that well - the SQUIP just laughed. It sent shivers up Jeremy’s spine. 

_ I suppose you’re used to hearing that from me, aren’t you? How about from someone else?  _ The SQUIP snapped its fingers and Rich turned around obediently, eyes dull.  _ Richard? _

His face rearranged itself. The Chesire cat grin was back, the slight bounce on the balls of his feet, his slack posture a coiled spring. Rich laughed at him. “Are we hashing on Jeremy? Man, who could ever love you? What a drip.”

“You can let him stop now,” Jeremy muttered. Rich’s eye twitched. 

_ It’s your turn. _

Jeremy sighed, exhausted. “Nobody could ever love me,” he repeated rotely. “Happy?”

_ It’s a miracle you made it onto the cast.  _ The SQUIP tapped a finger to its chin, a grin tugging at its lips.  _ Still, it’s enough for my purposes. I’m not trying to make you feel bad, Jeremy. You’re already so convinced of your own lack of worth as a human being all I need to do is remind you. I have a higher purpose.  _ It poked Jeremy in the chest, and he let his body sway with the motion.  _ To make your life better. You aren’t helping me do that.  _

Jeremy mumbled an apology. 

_ What was that?  _

“Sorry!”

_ Oh, good enough. You’re getting a little boring, you know. We may have to step it up later.  _ Jeremy really, sincerely, deeply did not like the sound of that.  _ Now, go in there and wring some answers out of her fat little neck. And if it’s literal, it’s literal.  _

What choice did he have? Having no choice made it easier. He was almost grateful.

They both took a second to silently fix their outfits. Jeremy made sure his was impeccable, as perfect as ever, as if one day the inside could finally match the outside. He could have the Vineyard Vines of the soul. Like Chicken Soup for the Soul, only douchier, and with more evil - nice, he meant nice - robots. 

They glanced at each other, then at the door. They made a series of increasingly complicated eyebrow twitches before Rich sighed, stuck his hands in his pockets, and kicked the door open. 

Ah. So that approach. 

Christine was standing in the middle of the room, just standing in front of a desk holding a pencil in one hand with a very thick binder splayed over the center. She wasn’t sitting at the desk, she was just standing at it. She liked to do jumping jacks while working sometimes. She grinned tooth to tooth at them. 

“Hi, guys! What’s up?” She tilted her head cutely. “Are you skipping class again?”

Rich had turned himself onto tough guy lackey, and Jeremy was playing snake oil salesman again. Rich huffed like a wild boar, arms crossed and looking around the room. Jeremy smiled apologetically and waved. 

“Hey, Chrissy. I just wanted to apologize for this morning. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He relaxed next to her, leaning against the desk. He didn’t quite crowd in on her - she had a very tall, very scary boyfriend - but there was a bit of a loom in his posture. 

Christine blinked at him guilelessly. “No, it was hilarious. I’m working it into my one woman comedy stand-up routine.”

Something tightly wound in Jeremy relaxed. Maybe she really was just - 

_ Repeat after me.  _

Well, guess he had lost that privilege. Jeremy opened his mouth and let the SQUIP’s words fall out. “That’s great. I’d hate to see anybody get hurt.” He looked around the room. Rich was prowling the corners. 

It was only then that Jeremy remembered that he had heard Christine talking with someone before he walked in, and now she was alone.

He felt his body and limbs ice over, and he knew that the SQUIPs and Rich had picked up on it much faster than he did. Rich was prowling the perimeters of the room, supposedly looking at the set decorations, really looking behind them. If she hadn’t been hiding something before, she definitely was now. 

_ Ha,  _ Jeremy thought,  _ she was just diverting attention! She knocked those bins over on purpose so we’d look for her instead of him! I told you! _

Jeremy caught the distinct impression of a withering glare, so he shut up. 

“Did I hear you talking with someone before I came in?” Jeremy and the SQUIP asked mildly. “Or was that just you running lines?”

It was a trap. Christine had memorized her lines a month ago and she wouldn’t waste time going over them again when she had more important things to do. 

But Christine just shook her head and pointed at her binder. When Jeremy leaned over to read it he saw blocking notations for a scene of the play, complete with dialogue. 

“It keeps looking funny on the stage, so I’m trying to get a feel for the scene,” she said simply. “Wanna help out?”

_ Under no circumstances.  _ Rich casually peeked inside an electronics closet. “Sure,” Jeremy and the SQUIP said. “Where do you want me to stand?”

“Oh, right there’s fine.” Christine picked up the hefty binder, balancing it in her arms as she chewed on the edge of her pen. Was it just him, or was she chewing a little fast? “Okay, why don’t you play the zombie right there. Then Rich can play the girl zombie over there.” She pointed to a spot roughly perpendicular to herself, making a triangle. “Rich? Come help block with us!”

_ Damn, she’s good. _ But Rich abandoned his search to stand in the triangle with them, groaning and slumping over. “Man, I got better stuff to do. Where’s that beer stash everyone keeps saying Mr. Reyes has?”

What beer stash? But Christine ignored him, clicking her pen over and over again. “Okay, now you two make zombie sounds. I’m going to play Chloe - that’s the scientist princess who’s the daughter of the evil mad scientist Mr. Reyes - and then you’re going to have to kidnap me.”

“What do zombies sound like?” Rich asked flatly. 

“Aren’t their vocal cords decomposing?” Jeremy wondered. 

“That’s great, keep it up.” Christine backed up a few steps from them, pulling an exaggeratedly frightened posture. Her face was twisted in a perfect mimicry of shock and fear. “Now Jeremy runs forward and picks me up!”

Jeremy cautiously jogged over to her, halting to wonder how to best pick her up in a way that wasn’t weird. He couldn’t stop looking at her horrified facial expression, her eyes tight and her hand shaking just a little. For the first time it occurred to him that she might be a little scared too. 

_ Lean over a little, as if you’re about to pick her up. That’s it. Now, place one hand on the nape of her neck. Fingers a little closer to the neck. Good. Now say, with a perfect smile,  _ “I didn’t know you and Michael were hanging out.”

There. That was it. There was a muffled thumping sound, and without wasting any further time Rich dropped his zombie pose and threw open the door of the costume room. It was large, somewhere between a closet and an actual room, and held rows on rows of costumes and plastic buckets of props. It’s where Jeremy would have hidden. 

Jeremy didn’t dare turn away, keeping his grip sure on Christine’s neck as he leaned over her and smiled. It almost looked like they were at one of those galas she liked so much, and he was sweeping her off her feet. Love at first sight. “Why did you lie when you said that you didn’t hear me and Rich talking?” Jeremy asked pleasantly. 

He had to hand it to her - she was a consummate professional. Her brow wrinkled a little in concern. “Lie? What does it matter if I heard you talking or not? I just didn’t think it was important.” She pushed a little at his hand. “Come on, we need to move to the next scene.”

“But I like this pose.” He grinned rakishly at her. He could feel her blood course through his grip. “Do you think it’ll look bad if you’re caught with a guy in a supply closet? Don’t worry about that. I wouldn’t tell Jake.”

“Uh, Jeremy? You’re being weird.” She was beginning to avert her eyes, her face going a little white. Even an actress couldn’t suppress that fear response. Rich was still rooting through the closet. Jeremy was still speaking the SQUIP’s words, which was weird enough. “Jeremy?”

She got the message. Any longer would really be weird. Jeremy released her, still grinning, and Christine almost jumped backwards. She covered the motion through primping at her hair and fixing her dress. Jeremy laughed self-consciously, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Of course. Man, sorry, that probably sounded like I was accusing you of something. You know I trust you, Christine.” He raised his voice a little, pitching it to carry. “Besides, everyone knows how much of a fag Michael is. There’s no way he’d make it with a cute girl like you.”

Christine winced. Rich exited from the closet, shaking his head. Jeremy bit his lip. No matter how good she as, Christine couldn’t hide the frantic darting of her eyes. She seemed to be looking at…

Jeremy subtly gestured to the far left side of the room, where the cardboard Frankenstein equipment was leaning against Mr. Reyes’ desk. Rich covered his movement by wandering around different parts of the room. 

“Yeah…” Christine trailed off. “Uh, no way.”

“Man, speaking of cute girls.” Jeremy bit his tongue so hard he wanted to scream, but the SQUIP kept on feeding him the line and he had to keep talking. “Can you keep a secret?”

“You have no idea.”

Same, honestly. Jeremy leaned in conspiratorially, but failed to lower his voice at all. “I think me and Brooke are really ready to go steady. Ha, assonance. What do you think?”

Another thump. It was definitely from over by Mr. Reyes’ desk. “I think Brooke’s really nice!” Christine squeaked. “You’ll be, uh, really happy!”

“I’m already really happy.” Jeremy could have sworn his eyes were almost shining. “She took me to her favorite spot behind the school - you know, by the football fields? We were talking about having a picnic there later on, it’ll be fun. You should join.”

“Did you...talk about food?”

“Oh,” Jeremy said cheerfully, “there wasn’t much talking.”

Rich was looking behind the cardboard, then over to Mr. Reyes’ desk, and Jeremy saw him still.  Christine’s normally slightly vapid smile was still plastered on her face, cool as a cucumber, but he could feel the tension in her stance. Jeremy was hoping, praying, dreading.

When Rich bent down over the desk and picked up a book. 

Christine went white. 

He frowned, flipping through it and turning it around. “It’s a yearbook.” Rich shook it a little, as if Michael was going to pop out of the binding, and before Jeremy could stop to wonder why Rich was caught up in a yearbook of all things Christine had already swooped over and plucked it out of his hands. 

“There it is! I was wondering where that went.” She slid it into her binder so fast her hands almost blurred, too fast for Rich to stop her. Did she secretly run track or something? “Mr. Reyes must have picked up the stuff we left on our desks. Thanks, Rich!”

They were still standing in front of the teacher’s desk, Christine clutching her binder to her chest and beaming. Rich’s eyes were a little glazed over, his jaw heavy and slack. He reached out and grabbed the top of her binder, and Jeremy saw Christine’s eyes widen.

“Why do you even have that?” The dull grey eyes fixated on Christine sharpened. “Come on, Christine. I just want to look at it.”

The bell rang. 

Kids started filing in almost immediately, sophomores laughing as they wandered in from the auditorium to grab their backpacks and go to lunch. It was a big class, and it was mayhem almost immediately. 

Rich met Jeremy’s eyes and shook his head. They couldn’t do...whatever it was they were about to do to Michael and Christine with witnesses. God. 

Christine was clutching at her Avalokitesvhara necklace, lips moving almost inaudibly, but the minute Jeremy turned back to her she had released the necklace and was beaming at him again. It hung loose around her neck, settling into the folds of her blouse. “Great! Well, I’m starving. I’m so happy for you and Brooke! Let’s eat! Wow! Man, do I just love food!”

She shoved the binder in her adorable book bag with a big adorable turtle stenciled on it before grabbing his and Rich’s hands and skipped off, quick as they come, and Jeremy and Rich were tugged out the door. Just as the door behind them was closing, just as Jeremy was shoved out it as two giggling sophomores entered, he caught the barest glimpse of curly black hair poking out from under a desk before the door closed and it disappeared. 

  
  


_ It’s the yearbook. Get it.  _

_ I can’t exactly mug Christine!  _ Jeremy thought hysterically, as he was dropped unceremoniously into the cafeteria. The tidal wave of sleet gray cinder blocks came crashing down over his head, with plastic lunch tables peeling at the edges assaulting his vision and the raw stench of teenager and mystery meat assaulting his nostrils.  _ We’re in broad daylight! _

_ Then get more original, moron! _

Jeremy found his gaze drifting to an empty spot in the center of a small aggregation of nerds before jerking it back forward again to see Christine run up to give Jake a big hug and a peck on the cheek. The usual crowd was there, hemmed in at the edges by a party of other kids acting as the outer satellites on the rings of Saturn and Chloe’s hoop earrings. Rich drifted casually to the Christine’s other side, slapping backs and hollering curses as he flanked her. Although he was doubtlessly under the same orders, Jeremy wasn’t as sure that Rich wouldn’t mug Christine in broad daylight. He angled to sit next to her before she pulled enthusiastically on Jake’s neck, making him almost choke, and swing herself in to sit between him and Brooke, launching immediately into an intimidating display of rapid fire conversation that left Brooke chewing dumbly on a cheese wheel. 

Her bag was on the floor at her feet, and as Rich reluctantly moved to sit near a beaming Jake he hooked his foot to bring it just a little bit closer to them. Jeremy, for his part, sat next to Brooke and smiled at her as he clasped her small and smooth hand under the table. Brooke chewed on her cheese wheel, eyes wide. Rich eyed them, catching sight of their clasped hands, and if Jeremy hadn’t been looking for the pang of sorrow in his expression he never would have seen it.

He gave her hand one quick squeeze and let it fall away, turning his head away so he couldn’t see her downcast expression. He smiled at her to make up for it, leaning into her side and bumping his shoulder against hers. He would have to make something up about trust issues and how he’s afraid to love again. Maybe he could drag poor Madeline into it. 

Chloe, sitting on the periphery, stared daggers at them. Her eyes were like flint, and her attention was turned entirely away from the bulky football player who was flirting with her in favor of trying to set them both on fire through willpower alone. Jeremy was mildly frightened. 

_ Distract them. Rich is going to get the bag.  _ Sure enough, if Jeremy glanced to his left he could see Rich and Christine engaging in a subtle fencing match of glances and aborted gestures, lunges and retreats.  _ What do kids like these days? Sports? Try sports.  _

The football player, whose name must have been Turner or something, didn’t look as frightened as he should have been. Mostly he just looked upset that Chloe was ignoring him. “Chlo? Chlo, don’t you want to hear about my touchdown?”

“Someone’s made a touchdown, alright,” Chloe said darkly. Brooke, oblivious, was chatting with Christine about having to shop in the junior’s section of the shopping mall as Christine slowly nudged her bag closer to her seat with the toe of her foot. “Jeremy, dear? Want to clue me in?”

Rich obfuscated from his mission to laugh as obnoxiously as possible. “Get a clue, Valentine. What you see is what you get.”

“I can give you a vowel,” Jeremy said mildly. He ruined the effect by fist-bumping Rich, watching the other boy stifle his wince as he hit bruised knuckles. Jake frowned at them, gaze slowly drifting down to Christine’s bag. “Sorry, but I think I’m more up to date on baseball.”

Rich cackled again, apparently having the time of his life. “That was a good one!”

The footballer looked between them, a vapid grin on his face. “You play baseball now?”

“I wouldn’t call him a catcher,” Rich said, gleefully. From the other end of the table Jake choked on his drink, thoroughly distracted from the bag. “You better watch out, Turner. I think your spot on the team’s been filled.”

Turner’s face fell in confusion. Jeremy could practically hear the gears grinding. “But I play football.”

Chloe snorted in disgust, pushing him away. “I’m tired of this. Leave me.”

The surrounding students laughed and crowded in, elbows bumping each other’s Vera Bradley lunch bags, mayonnaise flaking on Vineyard Vines t-shirts, and for a moment the sad assembly line of teenagers beat out an identical rhythm. Pencils and laughter, homework, anger, birkenstocks, giggling, Uggs, hair twirled around a single finger - Jeremy saw it all, even as he saw none of it, each tile forming a mosaic multi-headed monster of teenage fear and misery. Their houses of ticky tacky, their housewife mothers, their executive parents - their broken homes, their drug addict siblings, their tears at night. It meant nothing if it was wrapped under a douchey shirt and a salon style haircut. So long as that machine kept moving, Jeremy thought, they would live in a world without fear or pain. So long as those Vera Bradley lunch bags and Camelbak lunch bottles kept churning, maybe they were safe. 

But Turner didn’t leave her alone. He crowded in closer, doey eyes fixated helplessly on Chloe and completely missing her sneer. “You never even gave me an answer, girl. What’s one friday night, huh?”

“It’s one less friday night I get to spend watching PBS,” Chloe said waspishly. She turned away from him almost fully, leaning into Christine and Brooke’s conversation even as Brooke started sweating under her intense stare. “Christine, about that get together tonight at -”

“Who wants to stay at home watching TV when you can be out with me?” Turner either ignored or was oblivious to her obvious body language. Which was weird, for a guy looking down her top. “Come on, just one date?”

“I don’t even know where he lives,” Chloe was saying loudly to Christine, who had frozen stock still. Jake was looking over Christine’s head, frowning. “And I don’t want to just show up and find out that he lives in a slum, you know.”

“Why are you ignoring me?”

“Why are you such a loser?” Chloe snapped. 

Brooke sucked on her Camelbak, eyes wide. 

_ This is our chance. Aren’t you going to defend her?  _

Jeremy eyed her bared canines.  _ Girl can definitely take care of herself.  _

_ I’m sure she thinks that,  _ the SQUIP said condescendingly.  _ Hurry up and establish your masculine superiority so we can lord it over her later.  _

Jeremy sighed, and surreptitiously elbowed Rich. He relaxed his posture, leaning across the table. “Come on, Turner,” he said amicably, glad someone else had dropped his name so he knew that he hadn’t forgotten it. “Learn to take a hint.”

“Yeah,” Rich parroted, taking a giant bite out of a bologna sandwich. “take a hint.”

 “Come on,” Turner said, ignoring them, as if that was even possible. “Don’t get all frigid on me, Chlo.”

Jake hissed. Jenna, from the other side of the table, began slowly drawing out her cell phone, fingers at the ready. 

Masculine superiority. Stealing a high schooler’s book bag with turtles on it. Chloe had whirled back around on him, eyes narrowed furiously, but Jeremy cut in before she could even open her mouth. “If the girl says no she means no,” Jeremy said cooly. “Did you miss our unit on the Handmaid’s Tale in English when you were busy smoking weed behind the bleachers?”

“Yeah,” Rich piped in, “or are you just a stoner?”

It was a fun conundrum. Jeremy watched Turner’s face turn red, then an off white. Harassing the Queen Bee of high school was bad enough, but nobody could face down a morally righteous Jeremy Heere and his lackey Rich Goranski and survive. It was social suicide. 

“Chill out, man.” Turner’s eyes began darting side to side. More and more kids started rubbernecking, snickering behind hands. “Can’t a guy ask a girl out without people breathing down his neck?”

“I was just trying to help,” Jeremy said mildly. He turned to Chloe, who was positively gnashing her teeth. “Chloe? Are you into stoners?”

“I’m not into Turner, if that’s what you mean.” Her smile was a razor. “I’m not interested in a guy who handles so many balls.”

The table laughed appreciatively as Turner slumped over his seat, crumpled in his resounding defeat with his ears red. Jenna was texting furiously, tongue between her teeth. The table started their own play by play, greatest hits of the season as Jeremy and Chloe emerged national champions yet again for the third month in a row. 

“Oh,” Rich said loudly, after a solid few minutes of snickering,  “I get it! She means he’s -”

Chloe reached over and slapped a hand over his mouth, beaming. “I need to go to the bathroom. Jeremy, you come and hold my bag.” She eyed Rich, who smiled disarmingly under her hand. “Your shadow can stay here.”

Said shadow subtly panicked, looking between the two of them. Jeremy made a helpless motion. In the cloud of dust stirred up from the total decimation of a football player’s ego Christine had moved the bag from its position on the floor securely in her lap. Whatever they wanted, they couldn’t get it right now. Panic was the right word for it.

Still, even as Chloe tugged him out of the cafeteria Jeremy knew that had made a good one-two punch team. They always had. No matter how hard the SQUIP angled for total domination over the group, Chloe was never content to be second best. 

_ That girl is going to poison the whole water supply at this rate.  _ Jeremy had the feeling that doing things like poisoning the water supply was more up their alley, not Christine’s.  __

_ I don’t get it,  _ Jeremy thought hysterically, confused and scared. He was engaged in a Mission Impossible heist for a turtle book bag with one hand as he made increasingly complicated sports metaphors with the other, and the feeling of being more jerked around than usual was far from fun.   _ What’s the deal with one yearbook? _

He had the distinct impression that the SQUIP was pinching the bridge of its nose.  _ They think you transferred here this year, Jeremy.  _

_ Oh.  _

But Chloe had started talking a while ago, and it was only when he almost bumped into her elbow that he recognized anything of what she was saying. “ - could have handled that myself, you know.”

_ As insightful as ever, I see. Just take care of this so we can go back inside. I’m thinking sneaking inside the girl’s locker room fifth period. Here, try this.  _

Even as his head was whirling with how much he severely did not want to do that, Jeremy reached out and grabbed her by the arm, gentle but firm. She hitched a breath as Jeremy spun her around and stepped in closer, eyes wide and earnest. Once he got close, saw her plump red lips and her long dark lashes, he hated her even more. Her problems were nothing. “I know you can,” he said, echoing the SQUIP. “But you shouldn’t have to. It’s okay to ask for help sometimes, Chloe.”

She looked away, closing her eyes and breathing deep before opening them again. “I appreciate that,” she said softly, “but some battles I have to fight for myself, you know? They’d never let up otherwise.”

_ Is she feeling sorry for herself because every boy in school wants her?  _ The SQUIP materialized close to them, not leaning against the lockers as he usually did when he was in the hallway with other people like this. It was rolling its eyes, backing up until it stood behind Chloe.  _ When she dresses like that?  _

Jeremy remembered her posing for the boys that morning, and found himself understanding her less and less. The SQUIP gave him his lines again. “They aren’t battles you should have to be fighting at all,” Jeremy said fiercely. “People are so messed up sometimes. It’s nothing you’re doing. Don’t you dare think this is all your fault.”

Score. She leaned back on her heels, sticking her hand in her jacket pocket and smiling at him. Her smile was never shy, but it could be warm. “It means a lot that you think that,” she said. The SQUIP nodded, smug. “I think you’re the only one.”

Jeremy stepped closer, until there was little more than the span of a hand between them. “How can I not? You’re amazing. The way you dragged that moron Turner, man.” He shook his head, faking amazement. “Poetry.”

She snickered, ducking her head. “Mom always said it wasn’t ladylike to make the boys on the playground cry.” She looked past him, eyes farther away. “Jeremy, am I a nice person?”

From where it was pacing behind her, the SQUIP raised his eyebrows. Jeremy felt for it - it was a bit of a trick question. Typical girls. 

_ Please, girls like Chloe believe their own lies. “I like to think so. You’ve always been nice to me, at least.”  _

It was the right thing to say, a good answer, a bunt to let the players on the other bases score. But something in Jeremy just couldn’t say it.

Everything about her. Her plump red lips, her long dark lashes, her perfectly white and straight teeth. Her Vera Bradley lunch box, her Camelbak water bottle. Her high heeled boots. Her smile, her confidence, her poise. 

He hated every inch of it. It was a tight, thrashing ball of darkness and rage. He wanted a thousand more Turners to destroy, a machete so he could rip apart that image of hers. Chloe had put up a perfect curtain that was so easy to hate, and he indulged in it gladly. 

So he was honest. 

“No,” Jeremy said, “not really.”

She stared at him, blinking. He stared back. The SQUIP shot him a horrible, nasty glare over Chloe’s shoulder, and he had to fight to keep eye contact with her instead of it.

“Uh, ouch,” Chloe said. 

Jeremy shook his head, praying that this would work. “If you wanted a lie you could have asked any of your million sycophants. If you wanted someone to tell you how you’re the new Mother Theresa in Northface, then go ask Jenna or whatever. But you asked me.” He gave her a crooked smile, whatever that meant. “I like to think we’re real friends. And real friends don’t lie to each other. So, if you’ll excuse me for saying so, you’re a bit of a jerk. But you’re my kind of jerk. We can be jerks together.”

She stared at him for a long moment, blinking dumbly, before snorting. She broke out into laughter, loud and bright, and Jeremy faked a relieved smile too. 

She slugged him lightly on the arm, and Jeremy bit back the flinch. “You’re really something else, Heere.” She faltered, uncertain for once. She tucked her hair behind her ear. “So we really are? Friends, I mean?”

He blinked at her, tilting his head. “What else would we be?” Mortal enemies, for once, but he wasn’t about to say that. 

The SQUIP had backed away, scowling. A lock of hair had fallen over its eyes. 

“Brooke,” Chloe burst out, before flushing. “I mean.” She stuffed her hands in her jacket pockets again, shaking out her hair so it fell in a dark curtain over her face. “You and her are really…?”

Uh oh. Jeremy looked at the SQUIP pleadingly. It sneered. 

_ Oh, so now you want my help?  _

Was it seriously pouting? Whatever. He laughed self-consciously, scratching the back of his neck. “I guess? I don’t know. I really like her, but after that whole thing with Madeline…” he trailed off significantly, expression darkening. “It’ll be a while before I can trust again.”

“Oh.” She shifted from foot to foot. “Have you…?” She made a little motion with her hand. 

Something deep in Jeremy’s soul recoiled, and he had to clear his throat to keep the disgust out of his voice. “I don’t think it’s fair to Brooke to say,” he said flatly. 

Chloe was beet red now. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.” The SQUIP had strode over behind her, squinting at the tag of her jacket.  _ Knockoff.  _ “Why do...why do you like her?”

_ What is she on about?  _ Jeremy asked plaintively.  _ She doesn’t like me too, does she? _

The SQUIP tilted its head, fixing its matte black eyes directly on her.  _ My quantum nanotechnology CPU is no good here. What a complex woman.  _

_ She’s not that deep,  _ Jeremy said sourly, not caring if he was contradicting it. He cleared his throat, trying to think of a better reason than ‘she was there’. What did he actually like about Brooke? Was there anything he actually liked about her? Did it matter? 

Eventually, he had to say, “Well, why do you like her?”

She was well and truly beet red now, and she whirled around on her heel, posture drawn and tight. “How could I like that jerk? No offense, but you’re the fifth boyfriend this year. It’s like skipping stones for her.”

_ What a minefield. Good thing you’re so good with women, right? _

_ Rescue me!  _ “Aren’t you friends?” Jeremy asked plaintively, jogging behind her back to the lunch room. “Like, besties or whatever?”

“Only every other weekend,” Chloe said sourly. “When she’s not being awful and - and jumping boyfriends all the time.” She affected a sneer. “Sometimes I don’t know why I hang out with such a - such a serial monogamist!”

Something in his stomach twisted and broke. Everything about her ground every one of his gears. Jeremy grabbed her arm, less gently this time, and she stepped backwards to meet him. Her eyes widened when she saw his face, caught slightly off balance. Her cherry red lips parted in surprise. The SQUIP was well and truly glowering at him now. Jeremy didn’t want to know what his face looked like. 

“You think best friends are so easy to come by?” He cried. His eyes were burning. “Don’t throw away everything you have because of your ego! You won’t have anything left but your own pathetic misery!”

His hand froze on her arm, then softly withdrew. It felt a little like it was asleep. Chloe stepped back again, face scrunched up. If she started crying he was well and truly done for. 

She stepped back, and she scrubbed one hand over her face. 

His mouth started moving, and words came out of it. The SQUIP had disappeared. “I’m sorry, Chloe. I didn’t mean that.”

But she just smiled and shook her head, eyes shining. “No, you did.” If she started crying Jeremy was dead meat. She sniffed. “You’re a really great friend, Jeremy Heere. I’m lucky to know you.”

The sentiment left a sour twinge in Jeremy’s gut, knowing that Chloe liked very few people and trusted even less, and how she was wasting her time and affection on one boy who hated her and one robot who was now stepping forward, pressing his advantage. 

“I’m lucky to know you too,” the SQUIP said eagerly through Jeremy. It gently grasped Chloe’s hands, and she hitched a breath. “So please, listen to me. I’m worried about you. I’m worried about Christine.”

Chloe looked down at their loosely clasped hands, but she didn’t pull them away. “I feel bad for anyone who tries to mess with Christine,” she said softly. “They’d have to get through me first.”

“Exactly!” It tugged at her hands, angling them so he was leaning in conspiratorially. “Chloe, you have to swear not to let on about this. I’m trusting you.”

Christ. Her eyes shone, obviously. “You can count on me.”

Jeremy’s left arm was beginning to go numb. It felt like somebody was sitting on it. It felt like somebody was sitting on his chest, stifling his breath until he was wracking his chest over and over again but unable to make a sound. “I think she has a stalker.”

“He’s dead,” Chloe said instantaneously. 

That had done it. Chloe’s gaze sharpened into its familiar steel, so much more natural than whatever doe eyed look the SQUIP slapped onto her face. Jeremy wanted to be worried, he wanted to care, but his head was swimming. 

_ Do you really want it back so badly?  _ It sounded almost amused. 

Yes! Jeremy screamed. For god’s sake, yes!

_ Then you’ll get to be the one who says it. You’re welcome.  _

Like that, Jeremy was released. Just as quickly, he was given his line. 

It was even more difficult this time, to school his face into something approximating complete and vibrant sincerity even as he spilled garbage out of his mouth. “It’s that creep Michael.” Chloe drew back almost immediately, but he clutched onto her hand tighter. “No, listen to me. You know how he’s been following me around, right?”

He held his breath for a second, two seconds, but her expression only bent further into confusion. “I mean, everyone knows he has a crush on you…”

His stomach flip-flopped, but he ignored it. “Well, he’s been harassing Christine. She wouldn’t say anything about it, but I’ve seen him.” Jeremy grimaced. “He’s such a freak.”

Chloe’s bent into confusion. “I thought they were friends? Christine was really looking forward to our role playing session tonight.”

_ Guess we know why he needed the yearbook.  _

“Christine’s so sweet. She’d never know if someone was taking advantage of her.” That wasn’t true at all, but whatever. “Please, you have to look out for her. Make sure he’s not following her around. He put a yearbook in her bag, one from sophomore year.” He shivered for effect. “Weirdo.”

“Wait, what’s so weird about giving her a book?”

Jeremy’s expression darkened. “It’s a guy thing. You don’t want to know.”

She blanched. “Shit.” But her resolve strengthened, and Jeremy saw that mother bear instinct flare into life. “I’ll corner him during the role-playing meeting tonight. Then everyone can see what a weirdo he is.”

It was like riding a bull, how she constantly thrashed away from where he was trying to lead her. “We shouldn’t let her go to the game at all,” Jeremy said hastily. “Really, I don’t think any of us should go.”

But she just shook her head, rich brown hair flying around her face. “No, it’ll be the perfect opportunity. Don’t worry - I’ll keep him away from her all day today.” She squeezed his hand and smiled up at him, and Jeremy hastily threw on his confident, masculine, yet warm and loving variant of perfect smile. “You’re a good friend, Jeremy. I’ll take care of this for us.”

_ She’s useless.  _

“You’re such a great help, Chloe.” Smile, smile. “And a good friend.”

She laughed, releasing her hand from his and tossing her hair. “No, I’m not. Doesn’t that feel great to say?”

Lunch was over soon after that, and Rich only had enough time to shake his head at Jeremy when they passed by each other to go to class. No dice there. 

So they had kept Michael away from Christine, but only until the end of the day. Long enough for Jeremy and Rich to grab the yearbook and trash it.  At their role playing game tonight Chloe would find the blood in the water and pounce, Christine’s opinion abandoned because of Michael’s obvious manipulation, and Jeremy would be free again. If only for a little while, if only in a little way, he could breathe. 


	3. Chapter 3

 

He actually went to his fourth period class. It was just history, something about some Federalists, something about some Republicans. The SQUIP was blocking his view of the board. 

It was sitting on his desk, legs swinging against the side, playing hangman with Jeremy. They both got bored frequently, seeing as Jeremy had to pretend to pay attention and there were no freshmen egos around for the SQUIP to crush when they were in class. It even let him win sometimes. 

The sight should have been incongruous, but the SQUIP wouldn’t have looked out of place anywhere. Clean shaven, with a pressed suit that sometimes flashed into something different and far weirder out of the corner of his eye, and possessing an uncanny resemblance to a famous actor frequently accused of being immortal, Jeremy was forced to wonder why things like the SQUIP were always attractive, skinny white guys. 

_ I appear in a form that’s comfortable to you.  _ It inclined its head semi-graciously.  _ What’s comfortable about a female or a black person?  _

Jeremy winced. 

It was humming now, as it sketched its pencil along the side of Jeremy’s page and kicked its heels against the legs of his desk. The sketches, the hangman, the tic tac toe games - all were real on his page, visible to everybody else. 

Jeremy wondered who was truly moving that cheap bic pencil back and forth across that notebook page, back and forth, in a single perfect line that was digging deeper and deeper until it was puncturing the page. It must have been his hand, but it looked like the SQUIP’s. That was a turnaround. 

He clenched a fist. His bones were still vibrating a little. It always felt like he had licked an electrical socket whenever it took over his body. The SQUIP had vaguely insinuated that doing that too often was difficult, bad for his body, and way too much effort, so he was usually relatively safe. 

His muscles contracting, his tendons shivering, the slide and pull of cartilage on bone - that was his body. He glanced at the SQUIP’s arm, covered by the loose material of the suit, and he didn’t know if they looked alike or not. 

Cautiously, he reached out a hand and tried to draw the SQUIP’s sleeve back. 

It looked at him indulgently, eyebrows raised.  _ I do have a graphic display of skin under there, but if you’re really that bored we can try Jeopardy instead.  _

_ No, it’s okay.  _ Jeremy retreated the hand, deciding he didn’t want to know.  _ So...we’re still okay? About earlier?  _

Earlier, of course, being when he had completely ignored it and dropped on Chloe some cringe-level honesty. It had looked pretty pissed at him before that strangely important yearbook came back up again, and it hadn’t mentioned it since. Maybe Jeremy shouldn’t have mentioned it at all, but he had been feeling kind of edgy about it. 

The SQUIP brought up its legs until it was sitting cross legged at his desk, and Jeremy found himself scooting back a little. He really hoped the teacher didn’t try and make eye contact with him - he couldn’t see the board at all.  _ Are you serious? You were fantastic.  _

Jeremy blinked. 

_ Wait, what?  _

It smiled encouragingly.  _ Sure. You had her eating out the palm of your hand. I had to take over for awhile there, but you really came back in swinging. You sold it.  _

Jeremy found himself grinning. Yeah, he had sold it. He, of all people, had pulled one over on Chloe Valentine. She thought that they were friends. She had no idea he hated her guts. 

It leaned in, and Jeremy found himself leaning back in his seat.  _ We’re a team, Jeremy. You and me. This is the eternal group project, here. There will be peer evaluations at the end.  _ That was never a good sentence.  _ It’s about communication skills. That’s all what life is about, communication.  _

_ Really?  _ Jeremy squinted.  _ I’ve never been good at that.  _

_ Trust me, I know.  _ It grinned, raising one hand in the air and snapping its fingers.  _ Here, I’ll help.  _

The entire class turned to look at him. 

Jeremy slunk lower in his seat. He knew, objectively, that the SQUIP was just sending him another image of something that wasn’t there. The class itself was still the same, with pictures of presidents on the wall and thirty single person desks arranged in neat rows throughout the classroom with bored kids, on their phones in the back and scribbling notes in the front. But absolutely everyone was looking at him. Mrs. Maxwell, Precious, Yolanda, Henry, Kyle, Aisha, everyone was staring at him with blank faces and blanker eyes. 

_ Feel free to talk, by the way, none of this is happening.  _

Jeremy cleared his throat, forcing himself to sit up a little straighter. He was Mr. Cool Guy now. He could handle a couple stares. Everybody was staring at him these days, all the time, perceptually. 

But this time they were looking at him. Just him. Everything about him, the real him. And they were judging. And they knew. 

They hated him. 

_ You’re panicking,  _ the SQUIP soothed,  _ just relax. This is just as real as I am.  _

That, oddly enough, did not help. 

“W - what does this have to do with communication?”

Aisha blinked at him, leaning forward, eyes dull but piercing. “Was that a stutter?”

Jeremy reeled back. “No! No, it wasn’t!”

The SQUIP leaned back and crossed its legs at the knee, inspecting its fingernails.  _ It sounded like one. Did it sound like one to you, Henry?  _

Henry, a coworker of Rich’s on the football team, dropped his jaw and laughed. “Sure sounded like one to me, SQUIP.”

It was just an image. It wasn’t real. Jeremy wiped his sweating palms on his jeans, trying to remember everything he had learned over the past three months. But it had all left him, sucked out in a whirlpool of fear. “You just startled me, is all. What are you even doing?” He looked around, skin crawling. “Can you make them stop?”

_ Come on, just relax.  _ The SQUIP extended a hand and rested it on Jeremy’s arm from where it was propped up against the desk. Jeremy squirmed and tried to draw back, but its grip only tightened.  _ Take a deep breath with me. This is practice.  _

Jeremy exhaled heavily, then took a deep breath. He exhaled, slowly, watching the demonstrative rise and fall of the SQUIP’s own chest. It looked nothing but encouraging, as always, Jeremy’s number one supporter. “Okay. Okay, I’m okay.” He looked around himself uncertainly. He clenched his hand in his lap, his other one still caught by the SQUIP. He tore his gaze off his arm, looking around the room, breathing deeply. 

This wasn’t so bad. If he pretended that they weren’t looking at him, it was like they weren’t looking at him. He took another long, deep breath. If he pretended nothing was happening, nothing was happening. He had become pretty good at that lately. 

_ You have a talent, yes,  _ The SQUIP said dryly.  _ Weren’t you even wondering why the yearbook was so important?  _

Jeremy shrugged. Kyle was murdering him with his eyes. “Did it matter?”

The SQUIP stared at him for a second, eyes like marbles, before it looked down and laughed a little.  _ No, I suppose it doesn’t.  _ It looked up again, the fond smile on its face contrasting sharply with the empty eyes.  _ But we’re a team. We communicate. So I’ll let you know this: there’s a reason nobody really buys yearbooks at this school.  _

Jeremy waited. 

It stared at him back. 

“Wait, that’s it?”

It shrugged.  _ Hey, you wanted to know. Don’t blame me if you can’t handle the truth.  _

“That didn’t tell me anything!”

The SQUIP nodded as if that was legitimate feedback. Jeremy wondered, insanely, if this was going on his peer assessment.  _ I think a flowchart may be closer to your reading level. Do we have Candyland? That may help.  _

Jeremy huffed. “You’re making fun of me again.”

It beamed and reached out to ruffle his hair.  _ I barely have to try!  _ Jeremy stuck out his tongue, and it laughed.  _ Try this one on for size: that yearbook is the only one that grubby little boy is going to get his hands on. It’s a miracle he even got that one - he must have had to break into the library lockers. Without it, he has no proof that you ever went to this school. His cute plan to snuggle up into your friend group will fail now that the ugly little bitch Valentine smells blood in the water.  _ It sounded almost gleeful.  _ He’s done for. Him and his soda collecting days are over.  _

It was Jeremy’s job to be happy to hear that, and he pasted a smile on his face. Yeah, fuck that guy. He’s such a weirdo. It felt like he was shaking his pom poms in the air. 

_Jeremy, do you know of such a thing as cognitive dissonance?_ Before Jeremy could answer the SQUIP shook his head. _Don’t worry,_ _I have no delusions that you do._ Then why did it ask? _It’s a state where one person holds two contradictory beliefs. Two contradictory actions: behaving one way, feeling the other._ It shook its head in false sympathy. _I hear it’s very confusing and sad. We’ll have to amputate._

“You really don’t have to do that,” Jeremy said lamely. “But yeah, I guess it’s kind of upsetting.” The way Kyle stared at him was far more upsetting than some weird theoretical concept. Jeremy didn’t know a lot about psychology.  “That’s okay, though. I’ll just work on it.” He looked down at his hands and sucked in a deep breath. “Maybe Rich was right. Maybe some things can’t be fixed. Maybe I should just focus on...you know, just being okay with them.”

The SQUIP’s smile froze. 

The kids in the room began to hum a bright, almost buzzing sound. When opened their mouths and spoke they would have sounded almost normal if it wasn’t for the heavy distortion of their voices, like they were speaking through a machine. 

_ So you like being a loser? _

“That’s not it,” Jeremy protested, leaning forward in his seat. Maybe he had gone too far. He had let his guard down. It was something about this dream place, real and not real. The not real had begun to look a little real. “It’s just that even though I say all these nasty things to people, I haven’t started actually meaning them yet. I mean, sometimes I do, but that’s just me feeling bad.”

But even as the students had dropped their jaw like zombies, leaning forward in their seats so they were crowding in against him just a little bit more, the SQUIP didn’t look mad. It scooted itself the relatively small distance closer to Jeremy, a strangely ignoble notion, until it was sitting at the far edge of the desk and smiling at him. It looked a little like Jeremy’s fake smile, except for every part where it didn’t. 

_ I meant what I said this morning. You have the potential to do great things, Jeremy. It’s my job to help you. Remember that I’m the only one who actually cares about you. We’ve proved that a dozen times, haven’t we? Just be patient.  _ Jeremy slunk lower in his seat, trying to get away from its oppressive presence. It made it even harder to breathe. It made all of the figures look at him harder. Or did it soften them? Did Jeremy feel safe behind it? 

He had the feeling that he was supposed to feel safe when he was hiding behind it. But that just gave him one more thing to be scared of. 

_ You have to think about your future, Jeremy!  _ It reached forward and grabbed both of Jeremy’s shoulders, eyes intent and piercing in their glassy emptiness.  _ You’re just a teenager, you have your whole life ahead of you. Think of it: college, graduate school. Your career. You could do anything we want. The wealth, the fame, the social status, the women. And I’ll be with you every step of the way. It’s just you and me, Jeremy. Forever.  _

It was evident. Jeremy had known that. He had just been trying very, very hard not to think about it. It made him want to pull a Rich. That might be him, in three years. It was already beginning to feel like that. 

The first two weeks had been awesome. Even the first three weeks. But the week after that hadn’t been as great. He and the SQUIP had fought more. Week four had been really tough. Jeremy had wanted to see Michael again, he wanted more autonomy, and he didn’t like the way the SQUIP was always talking to him. 

But week five had been better. He had still hurt, and his nerve endings were so fried he was still a little numb on his shoulder blade even now, but it had gotten better. After that it got a little easier each day, even as it got a little worse, and even as nothing really changed, not really. 

Nothing had changed. He didn’t want any of those things, he just wanted to see Michael again. 

It was pointless, but Jeremy found himself mad. It was probably the most useless feeling he had and it always got him in trouble, but his hands were shaking with it. “What’s your damage?” he snapped. “The morning I’m great, at noon I suck, and now we’re buddies again? Just decide if you hate me or not!”

His heart was jackrabbiting, and he found himself sucking in heavy breaths again. The other kids were still staring at him - not mad, not advancing, just looking. But something new had entered their eyes, the tilt of their eyebrows, the tightening of their mouths. 

The SQUIP only raised its eyebrows.  _ Touchy.  _

Jeremy waited for it to get mad, but it seemed content to sit on his desk, leaning on one hand patiently. Jeremy didn’t know what it was waiting for. 

It just sat there as Jeremy sucked in deeper breaths, wanting to cry just a little. He didn’t want to live his life with this thing. He wanted the police to come and arrest it. He wanted his dad to notice and help him. He wanted his mom to come home. He wanted Michael. Just Michael, everything Michael. 

_ Your mommy and daddy aren’t going to help you. Don’t you hate them for that?  _

He did. Dammit, he did. 

_ Michael left you alone to fester and burn. Where was he when you were in that bathroom this morning? Did he come? Did he help you? Don’t you hate him for abandoning you? _

He did! Michael had left him alone with this thing. He was just running around in his pathetic homo misery, feeling sorry for himself and blaming Jeremy for everything that was going wrong in his life. Jeremy breathed harder, hand still trembling. Everybody had abandoned him. Michael had sneered and mocked and made blowhard, empty promises, and then he had left him like everyone else. 

Only Rich had stayed. Only the SQUIP had stayed. 

The thought should have been comforting. It only made him feel worse. He was trapped. Nobody was coming. Rich couldn’t even save himself. He was losing himself every day, disintegrating into sawdust as something a little more vile and a little more disgusting took his place. 

_ I’ll save you.  _ The SQUIP leaned in further, and it cupped Jeremy’s face. Jeremy bit the inside of his cheek.  _ Your life will be perfect with me.  _

“You can’t make me happy,” Jeremy whispered. 

It started running its fingers through his hair.  _ Only you can do that.  _

“You electrocuted me this morning.” It felt like a confession. “It had hurt.”

The SQUIP was silent. 

It clutched the roots of Jeremy’s hair and pulled. 

He screamed, and screamed louder as the SQUIP physically pulled him out of his chair and onto the ground. It yanked him back up again, and Jeremy choked off as he felt like his hair was being pulled out of his head. It had never done this before. This unreality, this dream state - this wasn’t really happening. None of it was.

It would have been so good to pretend that. 

Kyle, the football player who had been staring daggers at him earlier, got up off his seat too. The SQUIP had barely moved, legs crossed at the knee and inspecting its fingernails. Kyle cracked his knuckles. Jeremy stepped back until his back collided with the edge of the desk, the same edge the SQUIP was sitting on, and it snorted and pushed him away.  _ One day you’ll realize how lucky you are to have me. It’s a pity it’s not today.  _

Jeremy moved the side, trying to duck around the table, but Kyle grabbed his forearm before he could. Jeremy shouted, trying to pull himself out of his grasp but only making him dig his fat fingers in tighter. 

“Get off of me! What are you doing!”

_ I just don’t feel appreciated for my talents in the workplace.  _ It sighed theatrically.  _ I should at least be upper management right now, for all the work I do in this company.  _

On some level he should have known, but he was still surprised when Kyle took a swing at him. It landed in his gut, and Jeremy choked and wheezed as the wind was knocked out of him. He couldn’t even fall over with Kyle’s grip on his arm, and before he could think his arm was pulled and twisted behind his back. Jeremy screamed again.

_ Oh, please. Why aren’t you fighting back?  _ It rolled its eyes.  _ You’re such a professional victim.  _

He had seen Rich do this to people before, and he knew how they looked when he was done. But sometimes Rich hadn’t picked his battles quite right, and some of them had fought back. He copied a move he had seen from one of them and tried to twist himself out of Kyle’s grip, kicking him in the kneecaps, and Kyle grunted as he released him. 

The SQUIP clapped. Kyle stumbled backwards.  _ Very good! Your turn.  _

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” Jeremy screamed. “What is this, fucking fight club? I’m not playing this game!”

_ Then get beat up.  _ The SQUIP went back to inspecting its fingernails, but one eye lingered on Jeremy.  _ At this point I’m starting to suspect that you’re into that kind of thing.  _

This time when Kyle made another tackle for him Jeremy was ready, and he ducked out of the way. But one of his elbows dug into Jeremy’s side anyway, and he almost bit through his tongue as he fell and the back of his head made contact with the tile, making him grunt. Kyle bent down, pressing a forearm against his chest and holding him down on the ground. 

Jeremy gasped, too out of breath to scream, and frantically kicked out his feet before Kyle held those down too. In the heat of that moment he knew, with the irrevocable surety of those in pain, that he was going to die. This was going to be it. This was how it was going to happen, in the darkest corners of his own mind, with a man in a suit who looked a lot like Keanu Reeves and a little like him sitting on a high school desk watching his skull get split like a melon.

Kyle shifted his weight so he was leaning more against Jeremy’s chest, and the weight of a seventeen year old footballer player almost cut off his breath entirely. His head was so close to him now, his buzz cut, expression marred and twisted by hate but offset by his cold and marble eyes, leaching any emotion or ego from the rage and leaving only a tin machine that was pressing over his chest, making it hard to breathe.

This would be a really stupid way to die, so Jeremy took as deep a breath as he could, arched his back, and rammed his forehead as hard as he could into Kyle’s. 

They both screamed and Kyle fell back, Jeremy frantically scrabbling to his feet as Kyle rolled onto the ground. This time, before he could even think about it, Jeremy kicked him, drove his heel as far into his gut as he could, and bent down only far enough to punch him in the face. 

He punched him again, knowing somehow that this is what the SQUIP wanted, and drove his elbow into Kyle’s face. Kyle screamed, squealed like a pig, and even as he half-sobbed Jeremy kicked him again and again, until it became more stomping than kicking. 

Every muscle in his body was shaking. Jeremy stood there panting and wiping his bloody nose. Kyle wasn’t moving on the ground. Inanely, all he could think was that Monica was going to get upset that he killed her boyfriend. 

The SQUIP hopped down off the desk for the first time and walked up to Jeremy, ignoring the way he shirked away to throw a hand over his shoulder. For the first time Jeremy actively fought against the grip, but it became so tight he could barely move. 

_ Four out of ten for technique, but eight for enthusiasm. Guess you did have some pent up rage after all.  _

“Let go of me!” Jeremy screamed, fighting to escape. Its arm was like marble, and it was all Jeremy could do to free his arm pinned against his side. He pushed at the SQUIP, tried to break his grip, but the other arm was quickly growing into a vice closer and closer to his neck. “Stop! Help!” 

_ That concussion may have impacted your short term memory. Nobody’s coming, Jeremy. Nobody ever will.  _ It grinned at him, proud. Jeremy saw now that it was only proud of itself.  _ Still, that was a nice display. You have anger inside of you. You hate everybody and you hate everything. Don’t you hate me too? Don’t you want to kill me? _

“No,” Jeremy sobbed, “no, I don’t -”

_ Liars never prosper.  _ It finally released him and made little ‘come at me’ gestures with its hands. It still looked perfectly congenital, even as Jeremy’s entire body was aching and his teeth were throbbing.  _ Go ahead, get one in. It’s not a trick. I won’t hold it against you. What are you waiting for?  _

Jeremy gaped at it. “I can’t -”

_ Come on.  _ It was beginning to look annoyed.  _ Whatever happened to doing as I asked?  _

It didn’t make any sense. It felt like a trick. But it had asked, and it was honestly looking expectant, and Jeremy’s entire body shook with anger and adrenaline and fear. 

It looked at him, expectant. 

Jeremy stuck his hand into the anger and hatred until it burned, and before he could think better of it he reared back to punch Michael straight in the - 

Someone whimpered. 

Jeremy opened his eyes and followed the momentum of the punch, and he saw something squishy and heavy and real slam against the lockers behind them

The SQUIP, Kyle, his classmates, his classroom - all gone. He was left standing in front of a wall of lockers in a hallway, facing down a cowering freshman. His face was messed up and swollen. Jeremy’s knuckles were hurt. He had woken up in the middle of punching the kid, and the kid had just barely caught himself against the lockers, wheezing and sobbing deep breaths. 

Jeremy stepped back, then back again. His knuckles were tingling. His body still hurt all over from getting beat up by Kyle and beating him up in turn. He bumped against a short, warm body, which jumped away from him just as quickly. 

It was Rich, who was averting his eyes. He glanced at Jeremy out of the corner of his eye and mumbled something that may have been an apology before the freshman looked up at them, heaving deep breaths and grunting from pain. 

Rich puffed himself up again in the span of a second, crossing his arms. “I hope that’s the last time you mouth off again, you little shit. Now run off and forget this happened if you don’t feel like getting your fingernails ripped off.” The boy cringed. “Go!”

The boy went. 

Jeremy felt dizzy and sick, even worse than he had that morning. He stumbled, the floor swimming in his vision, and the peculiar sensation of being real, of existing in his real body, made him want to throw up. 

The hallway was abandoned, and when Jeremy looked around he recognized that they were in one of those back hallways that lead the locker rooms to the swimming pool. Practically abandoned. Nobody had seen. Nobody would ever know. 

From his position next to him Rich was still averting his eyes, as if he was staring at the sun. “Jeremy n’ I gotta go to class,” he muttered, talking to the ground. “It’s study hall and...and Jake’ll worry.”

“It’s alright, Rich,” Jeremy said, suddenly exhausted. “It’s just me.”

The change was instantaneous, Rich drawing himself back up to his full diminutive height and stepping closer to him. He had a mild case of the crazy eyes, and Jeremy would have been more worried if he wasn’t certain that his own crazy eye was a lot worse. 

“What the hell was that?” Rich hissed, making as if to grab Jeremy’s arm before thinking better of it and drawing back. “How long had it been taking over your body? What was with that shoebox?”

He wished he could say. Jeremy shook his head dumbly, and Rich exhaled sharply before his face collapsed into worry. Study hall was next period, the last of the day. He had been gone at least for a little more than an hour. He didn’t know. He didn’t remember any of it. Jeremy licked his lips and coughed, his vocal cords scratchy. “I don’t know. I had a dream. It was...a nightmare.” If he wanted to be melodramatic about it, it was a nightmare he hadn’t quite woken up from. “What happened? Why was I beating up on that freshman? That’s not part of my image.” he waved a hand up and down his body, gesturing to the Vineyard Vines and the boat shoes. He was the male Chloe, not a musclehead. “What shoebox? Rich, please.”

But Rich’s face just blanked out, jaw going slightly slack as he stared into the distance. Jeremy waited patiently until Rich shook himself and set his jaw. “I’m not allowed to tell you.”

The nausea was back. It must have been obvious because Rich hastily followed it up with, “It wasn’t anything too bad! Really, I swear, I don’t even know why it’s a secret. I wasn’t even supposed to tell you that much. Just drop it, man.”

The bruises on his knuckles were pulling strangely at his skin, tender and broken underneath. “I think I need some bandages,” Jeremy said faintly. “They’re gonna...they’re going to see.”

Rich dug in his pocket until he withdrew some thin but warm looking gloves, tossing them to Jeremy. He fumbled the catch, but began pulling them on anyway. “It’s October. Not too weird.”

Great. Jeremy flexed his fingers, feeling the cold fabric numb his sense of touch. It was almost claustrophobic. “Well,” Jeremy said glumly, “time to pretend none of that happened.”

Rich shrugged, digging his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “It was just a dream, man. It’s Chinatown. Just one long dream. It wasn’t real.”

“It was as real as it was,” Jeremy whispered. “As real as…”

“As real as you are,” Rich said impatiently.

But he was right. The dream was already fading, snow sticking to his fingers as it melted away. Jeremy knew that soon he would barely remember it at all. Maybe just the fear, maybe just his escape.

Rich made as if to grab Jeremy by the arm again, but when he saw Jeremy tense his hand dropped and he grabbed Jeremy by the hand instead. He smiled, small but warm. “I’ll always know. Come on, the bell’s going to ring soon.”

Jeremy followed him, grabbing onto his hand for dear life, a lifeline in a dark ocean, but when others started trickling into the hallway they separated just as quick. 

They drifted throughout the hallway, lost, even as they found the others in front of the library for study hall. Jake waved when they caught up with them, Chloe tossed her hair, Christine clutched her tote bag a little tighter and Brooke smiled sweetly. She let Jeremy drape his arm around her, clutching her a little closer and a little tighter than he needed to, and when he let his hand drop until it was curled around her arm she didn’t move, and Jeremy could pretend. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

The yearbook wasn’t in Christine’s bag. 

Of course it wasn’t. If he had been obsessively protecting a large hardcover book of thousands of pictures of teenagers from a vaguely evil prep and a jock, he would put it in his locker during passing period, just like everybody else did. 

After Rich flipped through the bag as quickly as possible while the girls were looking at clothing on a computer on the other side of the room only to find nothing but crumpled gum wrappers and abandoned fidget spinners, Jeremy was ready to pound his head against the wall. They literally had one job today. It should not have been nearly this difficult to take one book from one girl. 

It was about when he was banging his head against the wall that his hand moved itself into his pocket and wrapped around something cold and greasy. Jeremy wrangled control of his arm back and yanked it out only to find a copy of the school officer’s master key on a ring. 

When he showed it to Rich he only looked glum. “So that was why it needed the acrylic paint.”

“I would ask but I don’t care.” Jeremy stuffed the key back into his shorts, clenching his fist to try and dissipate the strange vibration deep in his bones even as he and Rich immediately started booking it for the library doors.  “Come on, we’re almost out of time.” 

“Almost out of time for what?”

They skidded to a stop as Jake stepped out from behind the circulation desk he had been manning, frowning. He crossed his arms as Jeremy and Rich quickly busied themselves looking as innocent as possible. Seeing as Rich was Rich, they were probably a little less successful than they would have liked. 

“We’re going to go buy concert tickets,” Jeremy said quickly. “To, uh, Eminem. Eminem’s memorial tour.”

“Who cares?” Rich said bluntly. “Buzz off.”

Jake stepped back and let his arms uncross, looking a little hurt. Jeremy would have elbowed Rich in the side if it wouldn’t have been horribly obvious. “Rich?”

“I’ve had a long day.” He didn’t say it like it was an apology, just a statement of fact. “Don’t jump down my fucking throat, Dillinger.”

Christ, what was his problem? They were supposed to be nice to these assholes. Jeremy laughed self-consciously, rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry, Jake, you caught us out. We just wanted to talk over some stuff. He’s kind of a private guy.”

Unbelievably, Jake’s hurt expression deepened into somewhat wounded. “But you usually talk about that stuff with me.”

They most definitely did not have time for this. Rich had clearly come to the same conclusion, because he settled for sneering at Jake and turning his back to leave anyway. Jeremy grimaced apologetically before casually slipping out the door, where they both had to fight to restrain themselves from a full out run. They had time. They had an hour left of class. They were going to find the stupid yearbook, drop it in a dumpster, and then go home and do all of this over again tomorrow. 

“Hey, wait up!” 

But Jake had just begun jogging along after them, and Jake and Rich exchanged identical expressions of mixed exasperation, panic, and anger. 

When Jake came up next to them, picking his pace even more as Jeremy and Rich walked as fast as could possibly be considered cool, he was frowning and looking at the both of them from side to side. “Guys? What’s wrong?”

“We’re just on a time limit,” Jeremy said tersely. 

“Time limit for what?”

Jeremy wondered idly if the SQUIP would cover up a murder charge. Probably. “Look, you probably have a lot of homework. Why don’t you just -”

“We’re sneaking into Christine’s locker to give her a reverse birthday present,” Rich said flatly. His voice had fallen out of his affected sing-song candor, and had settled into his actual deadpan to compliment his intent expression. 

Now they were both blinking at him. Jake’s expression hadn’t got any less confused. “What?”

“It’s where you take something instead of giving them it,” Rich explained, for a given value of explanation. “If you’re coming along you’re sworn to secrecy.”

“Oh.” Jake looked mollified. “If that’s it.”

They shared exasperated looks. 

By sheer intrinsic value of being Rich’s best friend Jeremy neither liked nor trusted Jake. Anybody who voluntarily shackled themselves to someone who was as much a psychopath as Rich liked to pretend he was was a little off in the head. The others tolerated Rich, accepted that he was intrinsically cool and a perfect example of the ideal male specimen. This let Rich basically act as horrible as he wanted. But Jake seemed to actively like him, to move to hang out with him when they didn’t have to. Rich never turned him away. When Rich talked about him, there was the faintest tinge of fondness in his voice. 

Maybe Rich had forgiven him for his damnable placidity, how he sat back whenever Rich acted horrible towards everyone and everything, how he shrugged whenever Rich had a sudden attack of the mysterious seizures, but Jeremy hadn’t. 

Besides, Rich was with him. Jake wasn’t the one who sucked face with Brooke and played nice with Chloe to help him. Jake had abandoned Rich, just as Michael had abandoned Jeremy, just as the whole damn world left them in the darkness because it loved how they looked in the light. 

Completely blind to the mounting tension between the two boys, Jake continued chatting blithely with a monosyllabic Rich and a dismissive Jeremy who wouldn’t stop hinting that he ought to go somewhere else. 

An unexpected upside was that he actually knew where Christine’s locker was. Jeremy had some vague idea from his long history of stalking her, but the tall boy was content to just lean against the lockers and chat with Rich as Jeremy finagled the master key into the lock. Stupid public school gummy tumblers. 

“Have you finished it yet?” Jake was asking cheerfully, rapping out a beat on the lockers. “You were pretty excited.”

Rich grunted. 

“I mean, you were so excited over reading Dracula I would think so. It’s really festive, right?”

The key scraped against Jeremy’s knuckle as he hissed, both from losing his grip and from surprise. He glanced over at Jake and Rich, who was ducking his head and hiding a trembling hand behind his back. 

“You read Dracula?” 

Jake cocked his head. “Well, he’s reading Frankenstein now.” He glanced between the two of them and his eyes widened. “Shit! Man, you’re such good friends, I thought he told you!”

Something breathed down Jeremy’s neck. 

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and he knew that Rich would forgive him. 

Jeremy stuck the key back in the locker, leaving it be for a second as he wiped his hands on his jeans and smiled pleasantly at Rich. “No, he never mentioned. I guess you don’t like to spread that around, huh?”

Rich hunched a little, turning his face away. Jake was still glancing back and forth between the two of them, confused. “Yeah.”

“Anybody else know?” 

It was intrinsically a little pathetic, the musclehead jock curled up in shame. He mumbled something. 

“What was that?” Jeremy asked pleasantly. 

Rich gritted his teeth and jerked his head up, eyes drawn and tired. “It was on accident, I swear. I was at the library…”

Which he wasn’t really supposed to be at. Jake’s eyebrows quirked up. “Back then? Yeah, I remember that.” He smiled goofily. “Man, you were so embarrassed. I keep telling you, nobody’s gonna care. You can just crack the heads of anyone who says shit about it, right? Nobody’s going to kill you for actually reading a book they assigned in class.”

“I was just in there because me and some girl as a ‘study date’.” The quotations practically dripped through his voice, and Rich forced himself to rearrange into a more casual position. He still wouldn’t meet Jeremy’s eyes. “I was waiting for her and I just found this book with the coolest cover. So I just opened it up, you know?” He smiled gently, caught in a fonder memory. “It was awesome. I loved it.”

“You jumped like three feet in the air when I caught you,” Jake snickered. He punched Rich lightly on the arm. “But who’s the one who checked out that book for you when you didn’t have a library card, huh?”

Rich turned the smile on him, small and fond, and it was the first time Jeremy had ever seen it for somebody else. He felt oddly jealous. “And who kept the book at his house so I could read it when I came over.”

“What was the title again?” Jake wondered out loud, before grinning. “I got it for you for Christmas, I should know. What, Beloved? Toni Morrison or something? We read a short story of hers in class.”

Rich cringed. 

As oblivious as Jake was, he finally frowned and reached out to put a gentle hand on Rich’s elbow. He let him, impossibly. “Hey, it’s okay. Jeremy’s legit. You’re okay with all of this, right?” He stared at Jeremy pleadingly, jerking his head - indulge him. No apologies, no worried glances. It was another one of Rich’s weird neuroses, so play along. 

“Well,” Jeremy said, “it doesn’t sound as if he did anything wrong, right?”

The SQUIP’s fingers ran through his hair. It was leaning on him again. Jeremy couldn’t see it, how it was standing just out of the corner of his eye, a weight, a tug.  _ It’s one of those depressing ape books. Woman escapes from slavery and kills her child so she won’t be recaptured. Looks like our Rich is a bit of an abolitionist.  _

Ah. Jeremy smoothly followed up on his statement. “I’ve never read it. Think I’d like it, Rich?”

He didn’t answer. 

“Sorry,” Jeremy said politely. Something in Jake’s eyes sharpened. “Didn’t hear you.”

“Nah,” Rich said thickly, “it was a bit of a crappy book.”

What they had could never really be called friendship. It couldn’t be, not so long as they did nothing but turn away from each other. Being used as a tool against someone who had only ever tried to help him probably didn’t make him much of a friend. 

Of course, by that logic Jeremy had no friends at all, but that wasn’t really news. 

The final click of the locker tumbler chased the thoughts away as Jeremy finally wrenched it open. It was Christine’s locker, alright - it looked like a party city gift bag had exploded all over it. Wrappers, tootsie rolls, those little tooty things that you got at parties but that nobody knew what they were called, a new copy of 1984, old homework. 

He wasted no time in digging his hand in and shuffling papers around, flipping through file after file stuck in there. Rich broke away from Jake immediately and helped look, but there wasn’t a lot of places for a yearbook to hide in a locker. It wasn’t there. 

Without another word Rich turned around and beat his hand into a locker. It didn’t dent, but the clang was loud enough to make all of them jump and make the row of lockers rattle. He was heaving through gritted teeth. Jeremy felt sick, and he found himself biting his hand. 

Jake was looking between the two of them, and if he wasn’t wigged out before he was now. “Guys? Did we miss Christine’s reverse birthday gift?”

“We’re so fucked,” Jeremy whispered to himself. 

“Guys?”

Rich kicked the locker again. 

Jeremy whirled on him, and he found himself snapping. “That’s not exactly useful right now!”

“What is useful?” Rich snapped back. Jake’s eyes widened. “We’re fucked either way, don’t you get it? There’s no winning!”

“There would be winning if we only had the stupid book.” Jeremy ran his hands through his hair, not to straighten but just to pull. “Crap! We’ve gone through so much shit already for this and now she doesn’t even have it anymore?”

“We’re dead,” Rich moaned. “We’re so fucking dead.”

Jake raised his hand. “They have yearbooks locked in the back of the circulation desk.”

The two other boys stopped to stare at him. 

“What?” Jeremy asked patiently. He took a carefully deep breath, thinking of thirty pairs of eyes staring at him, then exhaled. “Tell me exactly how that’s useful?”

“You...need a yearbook?”

“We need that yearbook,” Rich snarled. “That one yearbook that we’ve been playing keep away with all day. We couldn’t even manage that. God, we’re so stupid.” He shook his head, trying to dislodge the sick fear. “Okay. That’s fine. We can just try harder. Where else would she hide it?”

“The theater room?” Jeremy offered weakly. 

Rich shook his head. “After we caught her out there? No way.”

“Are you two stalking my girlfriend?”

“She hasn’t already given it to -”

“Choe’s been keeping him away from her.”

“Wait, what?”

“How hard can it be to steal one book from one tiny woman?”

“Okay, guys, stop.” Jake pinched the bridge of his nose, holding up his other hand. “Why are we stealing yearbooks?”

“They’re valuable commodities on the high school market,” Rich said seriously. 

“We sell them for drugs,” Jeremy added. 

“You two do know I’m part of the yearbook club, right?” 

They stared at him. 

Finally, Rich said, “We have a yearbook club?”

They sprinted back into the library, jumped the circulation desk, and waited bouncing on the soles of their feet for Rich to scout around the drawers of the desk, squinting and rattling pens as the two other boys looked anxiously at the clock. 

They were in the back room behind the circulation desk, where the librarian had her mini fridge and towering stacks of scrapped library books and ancient educational VHS tapes. Really, when you think about it, even the most cutting edge technology you read about in those Facebook feed videos were ridiculously outdated in comparison with the real frontier of technology living in their brains right now. Jeremy idly wondered how much money he was worth. It absolutely had to be more than $400. You could buy a used laptop with that, not an overly creepy AI who took the term personal digital assistant way, way too seriously. . 

Jeremy would rather have the laptop, to be honest. 

He flinched away from the thought the minute he had it, and focused at the task at hand. Now that he looked properly, there was a large locked shelf of books lined up across the back wall of the room, and when Jake finally fished out the keys he carefully selected one to open the cage with. 

He frowned at the locking mechanism. “Hey, someone broke this.”

“No shit.” Rich muscled up in front of him and immediately started scanning the titles. He brought up the two most recent ones - Jeremy’s freshman year and sophomore year. Those were the ones that were going to get them in a royal amount of trouble. “How many copies of these were saved?”

Jake scratched his stubble, blinking. “After that mysterious fire that destroyed almost all of the shipment?” Rich looked sketchy. “Not a lot, dude. Most of the surviving ones are locked up there. After all of the mysterious yet dangerous accidents we’ve been having with yearbook shipments, everyone keeps saying they’re cursed.” He shrugged, a ‘what can you do’ gesture. “So we lock them up here so they won’t hurt anybody. Folk medicine, huh?”

“I hate this school,” Jeremy said, with as much sincerity as he could possibly muster. He turned back to Rich, grabbing one of the books he was carrying and flipping through it. Now that he looked at it, he knew for a fact that he had never bought one. The creators of it clearly knew that too. 

But his fingers found the back of it anyway, tracing their way down lists of lists, and it was only after he already flipped to the page that he thought that it may not have been a good idea at all.

It was him. It was just him, just his school picture. Dorky, with an embarrassing grin, bad skin and bad facial hair. When Jeremy squinted at it, and turned it around a little, he was able to Photoshop it a little: there’s clearing away the acne, there’s brightening up that grin a little. Jeremy realized, in a really weird way, that he was objectively kind of attractive. 

He let his fingertip ghost over the image. It had been him. 

Then Rich was there, skimming his fingers over the book, catching sight of Jeremy’s picture and grimacing, then stopping on another page. With his back turned to Jake he quickly and cleanly ripped out the new page, folded it into neat eighths, and stuck it in Jeremy’s pocket. 

The yearbook went back into its shelf, the freshman year one following it. That was that. Jeremy looked around, lost, drafting up vague plans to burn the ones he had just looked at as soon as he could but unable of how to proceed beyond that. 

Christine had the yearbook. They had no idea where it was. She was going to give it to Michael and he might have actual, stupid ammunition for his stupid little plans. And Jeremy was going to get into so, so much trouble. 

A bell rang on the circulation desk in front of them. Christine was there, holding the yearbook. 

Jeremy and Rich burst out of the back room, almost leaping over the circulation desk as Jake followed leisurely after them, frowning. Christine, completely unfazed, waited for Jake to walk over before handing him the book. 

“It was due back,” Christine explained. She looked between the both of them, politely confused. “What’s going on?”

Jeremy opened his mouth, then closed. Rich was straight out gaping. They were both leaning against the counter, almost ready to vault over it, and when Jake paused to squint at the yearbook Rich seized the opportunity. He grabbed it out of Jake’s hands, eliciting a startled yelp as he immediately began thumbing through the pages. 

He faltered over a page in the book. Jeremy couldn’t see what page, but he could see the way Rich’s jaw fell slack, how his eyes widened. But in the next moment he was himself again, so much as he ever was, and he snapped the yearbook shut to turn around and grin and Jeremy. It was a mix between his Chesire one and his real one, but the sheer relief it carried couldn’t be feigned.

“Thank,” Rich said with feeling, “fucking god.”

It was like every muscle in his body had relaxed when he didn’t even know that they were tight. Jeremy slumped against the side of the counter, exhaling heavily, and when he turned to look at Christine he didn’t have to feign the gratitude. “Thank you so much. Seriously, you have no idea how much you saved our asses.”

“I really don’t,” Christine said blandly. 

“What’s going on?” Jake crossed his arms, squinting both of them. Rich laughed, high and shrill with hysterical relief, and slung his arm around Jake and shook him a little. Jake blushed, but smiled too. “I mean, not that I’m not glad for you.”

“Let it be, man,” Rich said empathetically. He knocked a hand against Jake’s chest. “It is so good to be alive right now.” 

As always, Jake just accepted it. He shrugged and returned the masculine side hug, unable to keep a smile from his face either. “I think so too.”

The question lingered. Jeremy let his gaze drift to Christine, who was looking politely attentive at the display. She was clutching her tote bag, and Jeremy was forced to wonder where it had been all that time if it wasn’t in her locker or her bag. 

He composed himself, giving Christine a somewhat embarrassed smile as he leaned against the counter. He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry for all the trouble. I’m really glad you got it back to us. We were really worried about where it was.” He made his eyes big and earnest. “They’re really valuable on the high school black market, you know.”

Christine hadn’t let down her poker face, and for the hundredth time Jeremy was forced to wonder what she knew. She looked down at the floor, and her knuckles tightened on the bag handle. “I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.”

An awkward silence bubbled between them, and Jeremy was forced to laugh again and give her some rakish grin or another. He didn’t really know what exactly that meant, but he was well assured it was very attractive. “You’ve had a really exciting day, huh?”

She didn’t meet his eyes. “Very.”

“Yeah,” Jeremy said, “me too.” 

He leaned closer to her, straightening up a little so he was looming over her. He lowered his voice. “You did us a really big favor, Christine. Can you let me make it up to you? It’d be nice to hang out a little, just the two of us.”

She blinked up at him guilelessly. “All I did was return a library book. It’s my civic duty. Our civilization is founded on that, you know.”

“Our civilization thanks you,” Jeremy said smoothly. He turned up the smile. “Really, isn’t there anything I can do?”

Christine tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, looking away. Brooke did the same thing all the time. Score. “Oh, the play’s so soon. I’ve been pretty busy.”

Lean in. “I’d love to help. I’m really invested in how the play’s going, you know.”

She giggled nervously. “Too many cooks, right? Wow, I think Chloe’s found another dress on the computer. Bye!” She turned on her heel, as fast as she could, but her hasty retreat was betrayed by her anxious look back at him. “Jeremy, I…” She faltered, uncertain of what to say, how to say it. Finally, she finished lamely, “You’re right. We should hang out sometime. Just the two of us.”

Jeremy grinned, strategically ducking his head and rubbing the back of his neck again. He softened his voice. “I’d really like that.”

“Yeah,” Christine said, “me too.”

Score. 

The bell rang not soon after that, and Jeremy numbly watched the class gather themselves and pour out of the library doors, laughing and beating their retreat as fast as possible. They got to go home at the end of the day. Jeremy didn’t. 

At least he could go to sleep after this. That was what he did most of the time whenever he got home, sleep. Sleep, wake up the next day, and do it all over again. Sleep, and dream those long hard dreams where he always felt something watching him just over his shoulder. 

He was just about to leave himself when Rich caught his arm, pulling Jeremy down to lean into his hear. When Rich spoke, his breath ghosted over Jeremy’s neck. 

“Your page was gone.”

Jeremy froze. 

His throat had gone dry. Jeremy swallowed, feeling his scratchy vocal cords shift. “What do you mean, gone?” He whispered. “So the book…?”

Rich grinned and shook his head. “Useless. Even if it wasn’t, the library has a fucking copier. We missed our chance. Mell has the evidence.”

But he didn’t look upset at all. He looked satisfied, hands stuck in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his feet. The library was almost emptied now, possessed of a few leftover stragglers and stray pairs of girls caught in intent conversations. Theirs probably looked like one from the outside too. 

“It was useless,” Jeremy whispered. “Oh my god.”

Rich spread his hands. “It’s too late. He has it. We got the book, though.” He jerked his thumb at the counter, where the yearbook was securely locked. “You can’t say we didn’t get the book.”

“I’m not sure we’re going to get off on semantics,” Jeremy said weakly. 

“What choice do they have?” Rich clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m already on it. I’ll chase down Mell and just pummel it out of him. No harm done.” He saluted Jeremy, turning on his heel to stride down the hallway. “I’ll take care of this for you. Go home, Jeremy. You’ve had a long day.”

Jeremy stood numbly, watching him go. 

It was only then that the SQUIP appeared again, for the first time proper since the dream, hands stuck in its pockets and eyebrows raised. Jeremy looked down at the ground, cheeks hot with shame. 

_ Well, that was a disaster.  _

Jeremy didn’t say anything. 

The SQUIP sighed before reaching out a hand and clapping Jeremy on the back.  _ Don’t look so glum, kiddo. We’ll get ‘em next time. _

He snapped his head up, meeting the SQUIP’s amused eyes. “Really? ‘We’ll get ‘em next time?’ That’s it?”

_ Sure. You did your best, right? A for effort and all that.  _ It shook Jeremy’s shoulder a little, eyes soft.  _ Come on, let’s go home. You’ve had a long day, Jeremy. I think you deserve some rest. _

“Yeah,” Jeremy said, “rest.”

Rest sounded good. Rest sounded great, even. Jeremy just wanted this day to be over. He wanted everything to be over. 

He had just finished getting his things from his locker when he heard a familiar voice echo through the hallway. Two familiar voices and a thump. Jeremy felt sick even before he consciously recognized the voices. 

Sure enough, when Jeremy carefully crept along the side wall he heard distinct voices around the corner. He pressed himself against the wall, pulling his backpack over to his front as the SQUIP peeked out from over the corner. 

It grinned.  _ Well, what do you know.  _

A soft clang echoed through the hallway as Rich shoved Michael against a locker again. It drowned out the first part of Rich’s sentence, and Jeremy was just barely able to make out the rest. “ - some real fucking balls, Mell.”

“It’s called courage and friendship, dickhead! Maybe you’ve never heard of it, but I have!”

Jeremy facepalmed as the SQUIP snickered next to him.  _ He’s like a puppy.  _

“I don’t care whatever petty bullcrap scheme you waste your time on,” Rich said patiently, or as patient as he ever got. “But don’t drag Christine into it. Don’t you understand the danger you put her in? Huh?” The lockers rattled again. “You’re lucky she’s not dead! You would have killed her, Mell!”

“Shut up!”

“Make me!” Rich was positively growling now. It wasn’t easy to make Rich that mad, but Michael had pulled it off somehow. That was pretty characteristic of him. “You can’t make me do shit. I only got one higher power, moron, and you’re going to need a lot more than some pieces of paper and a deathwish. Don’t you get me? You have nothing!”

“I don’t need anything more,” Michael said coldly. “You can push me around all you want, I’m not giving up. You can’t scare me away from this one, Rich. Rip up all the evidence I have - thanks for that, by the way! -  and proof or no proof, I’ll keep chugging Red Bull until Jeremy’s not evil anymore.”

Something warm rolled in Jeremy’s stomach. He found a smile tugging at his lips. 

_ I had no clue one human being could be so stupid,  _ The SQUIP said in wonder.  _ Here I thought I was scraping the bottom of the barrel with you. _ Its expression sharpened.  _ Would you like a turn? _

Jeremy’s smile fell. “Turn doing what?”

_ You can swap out with Rich, if you want,  _ The SQUIP explained patiently.  _ Don’t you want to know what his jaw sounds like when you break it?  _

“You’re a selfish fuck.” Ri ch’s voice dripped with disgust. It wasn’t feigned. “Don’t you want to know what would have happened if you hadn’t made Christine give the stupid book back? Don’t you want to know what happened when we found out it was lost in the first place?” His voice was heaving. “I know it’s a foreign concept to you, Mell, but when you pull half baked plans other people pay for your incompetence. Jeremy paid. I paid. We were almost in deep shit because of you.”

“What do you even mean by that?” He grunted, and Jeremy thought that he might be struggling in Rich’s grasp. “What payment?”

The SQUIP’s hand was resting on Jeremy’s arm. Its smile was demented.  _ Tell him! He’d just die hearing it. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. The best way to hurt Michael Mell is through you! _

It occurred to Jeremy for the first time that the SQUIP may have a grudge against Michael. 

But Rich never said anything. Something that would hurt worse than any knocked heads or derogatory slurs, and Rich refused to elaborate. “Jeremy can’t afford your help. He doesn’t want it. If you keep making such a nuisance of yourself I’ll make sure you never walk in the same hallway as him again. Do you understand me?”

“You do that anyway,” Michael said bitterly. 

“Next time you come roaring in with some half cocked loser scheme just ask yourself who’s protecting him, Mell. You or me?” His voice shook with repressed emotion, hidden behind the growl. “Because it sure as hell ain’t you.”

Another thump, and Jeremy heard footsteps beat slaps against the tile as fast as they could before they receded into the distance. 

When Rich turned the corner he didn’t seem surprised to see them there. He didn’t seem like much at all: exhausted, deep bags under dead eyes and hands shaking. Jeremy wanted to protect him too, but he didn’t know how. He settled for reaching out a hand and letting Rich take it, squeezing it tightly. The SQUIP watched with interest. 

“I can’t last much longer,” Rich said. “I can’t do this.”

It was a little pathetic, to see a man so defeated and broken. But something about it was the opposite too, something brave and strong that took Jeremy’s breath away. It wasn’t kind, and it wasn’t fair or even right, but it was Rich. 

“I thought you wanted to protect me.”

“Maybe this is how.” Rich drew his hand away, dredging up a weak smile. “I can’t believe that moron is our best shot.”

The SQUIP’s eyebrows drew up, but Jeremy didn’t care for it now. “Michael isn’t important, please. Why don’t you get some rest?” He faltered. “I can’t say it’ll be better in the morning, but…”

“Don’t forget what I said.” Back in Rich’s room, the only time he had ever really said anything. “Don’t lie to yourself, Jeremy. Lie to the whole damn world but not yourself. Not ever.”

It was advice Jeremy didn’t know how to follow, didn’t even want to, but he found himself nodding weakly. 

When Rich left Jeremy almost wanted to follow, to ask him one more question or thank him one more time, but when Jeremy practically saw Rich’s SQUIP make him leave he couldn’t bring himself to go. He was left standing there, alone in a hallway ringing of silence and the marked absence of happiness and sadness alike, left holding the piece of paper Rich had slipped into his pocket.

He unfolded it quietly. It was one of the yearbook pages, the same one Rich had ripped out earlier. It was one of the pages of portraits. 

In the center of the page he saw Michael, grinning awkwardly, hair messy and with his glasses tilted slightly askew. They had gotten broken earlier that day, when a passing jock stepped on them. Jeremy had done his best to fix them, but when it came time to take the picture he hadn’t quite done it well enough. The imperfection was left there, but Michael hadn’t cared. On him it hadn’t looked like an imperfection at all, because there was nothing perfect about him. It was just Michael. 

Jeremy reflexively looked to his side, but the SQUIP was only looking at him with polite interest. 

_ I don’t see the big deal. You have a dozen pictures of him that we haven’t gotten around to burning yet. You can keep it if you want. It’s no good to you.  _

For a quantum nanotechnology supercomputer, Jeremy thought as he carefully tucked the picture into his pocket, it wasn’t always all that smart. 

When Jeremy got home that evening his father was asleep. He climbed the stairs, SQUIP close on his heels, and immediately kicked off his shoes and collapsed on the bed. It didn’t harangue him about changing his clothing, probably because it knew that Jeremy couldn’t have moved even if he wanted to. 

He would have to wake up again tomorrow. And the day after that, and the day after that. Nothing had ever seemed so tedious. His life stretched out before him, unimaginable in the scope of how many days he would have to wake up and how many steps he would have to take, how many tiny defeats Jeremy would have to swallow before he could pretend that they were victories. 

“Why do you look like me?”

The SQUIP looked down at him, politely interested.  _ Maybe it’s you that looks like me.  _ It dug its fingers into his hair, and Jeremy let it.  _ Would you like to go to sleep? _

But Jeremy only wanted to lie there, let himself be nobody even if it was only for a few hours. Lie there and watch the dust motes fly above his bed, caught in whirling eddies of the air conditioner and the breeze whistling in through the cracks of the house, watch the sun move and shift and set. 

Jeremy laid on his bed, the SQUIP running its fingers through his hair until the soothing motions finally made him succumb to sleep. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for beloved! Thank you all so much for reading! 
> 
> I have another story in the works, currently 100k+ and counting, so stay tuned for that bullshit. Thanks!


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